A Future in Fire
by Triade
Summary: Kirkwall was a den of sin, the city of chains and a bomb waiting to explode. But it was home. Follow Logan Hawke, a mage, through the years spent here. Caution: plot rewriting - namely the parts that don't make sense like Orsino and the missing years.  . Anders/F!Hawke/Fenris
1. A Prologue in Fear

_ I stepped into the ring, spinning my staff. My arms were tired and I felt drained – the battle with a Templar who could strip my powers was taking its toll. Knight-Commander Meredith and I circled each other warily, never looking away from the other. The power of her insanity was growing with each step, the raw lyrium corrupting her mind and spirit. My right eye burned with the effort of watching her – so overwhelmed as she was by it. _

_ Then she struck. She was so quick I barely had time to move out of the way, stumbling over the fallen statues. I grimaced as Meredith nicked my side in another move. Lightning arced across my staff as the massive blade pierced my side. _

_ "You cannot win this Champion." She hissed, wrenching the blade in deeper. I winced and a low growl built up in the back of my throat.  
_

_ "I must win this." I snarled through the pain-haze.  
_

_ I drew on whatever mana I had left to throw her away from me. She hit the ground hard, stunned by the force. I advanced, blue fire gathering in the palm of my hand._

_ She was mumbling something under her breath, something that I couldn't hear from here. As I stepped closer I realized that coming close was a very grave mistake. _

_ "Maker give your servant strength!" She howled and the raw lyrium exploded outward. _

_ As the blast faded, the world went black around the edges. I swayed on my feet and collapsed with the sounds of my companions cries echoing in my ears._

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm a horrible person and I know it._ :D  
_


	2. A Beginning in Hopelessness

-Many years earlier-

I ran hard behind my family, the cries of the following darkspawn scouts loud in my ears. That's when Mother stumbled and I skidded to a halt, whirling on our pursuers. I was lucky that my sister had noticed Mother's fall as well for she instantly shielded us with a flaming wall. I grabbed the half-sword half- staff that served as my weapon and gutted the next creature that dared come through. Carver took the next one and they halted, milling uncertainly.

I watched them for a moment through the glittering sheet of fire as they voiced their fury before I returned to my family huddled under a rock overhang. Mother was sitting on the ground and I gently touched her shoulder.

"Are you all right Mother?" I asked softly, black hair falling into my face as I leaned over to help her up.

"I just… can't believe it's all gone." She said numbly. I smiled sadly. Yes, Lothering was gone. It had been overwhelmed by the coming Blight and with it, everything I had ever known. But I had promised my father that I would protect them – my brother, my sister and my mother. I was the eldest after all.

"I know Mother but the darkspawn will be here any moment." Bethany urged and flicked a baleful glance at Carver.

"What are you looking at me for?" He protested defensively and I restrained a sigh. "I've been running since Ostagar!"

"Enough you two." I said sternly and Carver looked at me in annoyance. I gave him a hard stare in return.

"Please! Both of you, just listen to your sister." Mother stepped in and Carver reluctantly backed down. Honestly, my brother. He was as bullheaded as Father was!

"Hurry now." I said and ushered them on. I fell back to my original place, watching our tail as Carver took the lead. It didn't take long for the darkspawn to find us again.

This time, it was Bethany that was the target.

As we sprinted down the valley floor, they crested the hill as Bethany passed. She saw it too late and I knew she was going to take the blow across her head. I put on an extra burst of speed and slammed into her in the nick of time. The blade tip slashed across the right side of my face and I grimaced as it drew a fine line from the bandage covering my eye and down through the corner of my lip. I twisted my staff to block the next blow and threw it off balance, killing it with a shard of ice.

The assault was over as quickly as it had come. I leaned on my staff, exhaustion settling deep in my bones.

"Logan are you alright?" I glanced up at Bethany and gave a reassuring smile that pulled at my wound uncomfortably.

"I'm fine. It's nothing a little healing can't fix."

She pursed her lips disapprovingly at this.

"It will scar – again." She said warningly and I chuckled low in my throat.

"One more scar certainly can't hurt." I said and she sighed, passing a hand over my face. I felt the small aching pain vanish and nodded my thanks. I knew she disapproved of all the scars I had gathered over the years – especially the ones on my face. She frequently mentioned – along with my mother – that I would not get anyone to become attracted to me if I continued to gather scars.

Unfortunately this could not be so. Ever since my father's death, the protection of my family had fallen to me. And protecting those you held dear often lead to injuries. Injuries I was happy to bear if that meant saving them pain.

"You said that three scars ago Logan."

"This is hardly the conversation for this time Bethany." I replied with a small smile. My reply only brought the barest amounts of amusement to their eyes but it was something. Anything was better than the hopelessness that hung around us like a foul mist.

"This all well and great," Carver interrupted and I looked at him attentively. "But where do we go from here?"

I tapped the side of my weapon, brow furrowed in thought. I hadn't honestly given it much thought – the instinct of survival had taken over long before I even had the chance to contemplate what would happen after we stopped running. Now in a brief respite, I was very concerned. Surely anywhere in Ferelden would be suicide, with the Blight spreading every day. Denerim would be packed with refugees and was no place for my family. Then where could we go?

"I… honestly do not know." I said truthfully, looking up into my brother's eyes. My one visible blue eye matched almost exactly in color. "As long as we stay together."

Mother saved me from my brothers' certainly scornful answer.

"We could go to Kirkwall."

I blinked and looked up doubtfully.

"Kirkwall?" My sister and I said dubiously at the same time. We flashed each other a glance and I let Bethany voice our collective fear: Templar's.

"There are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall Mother." Bethany said with worry.

I saw Carver look away with a faint flash of disdain. He was at loathe of being part of a family of apostates – I knew it all too well. Why, however, he was so angry with Bethany for the comment I do not know.

"It will be alright. We have family there and an estate." Mother explained and I did remember hearing of Mother's origins in Kirkwall. "So long as both of you keep check and do not draw too much attention, it will be safe."

Bethany looked unhappy and Carver made a scoffing noise. I flashed him a warning look.

_'I will talk to you later.'_ I mouthed to him as Bethany and Mother talked. Carver rolled his eyes and grabbed his sword, getting to his feet.

"Shouldn't we be going then?" He said and I stood up.

"I suppose we need to head for Gwaren then." I said, my eye catching the fires in the horizon and the smoke that still rolled off our old home. "To take ship."

"We still have a long journey ahead of us." Bethany said and I smiled briefly before taking a step foreword.

Then the deceptively silent air shattered with the scream of a woman. Without warning, Carver took off.

"Carver!" I shouted, alarmed and afraid for his life. "Stay with mother Bethany!"

I sprinted after to find him already engaged with a small pack of darkspawn. Beside him was a fiery haired woman, brandishing a blade as if it were little more than a toy. They both formed a protective wall around a downed person who I could not distinguish in the fray.

They were outnumbered and reacting on instinct, I jumped into the battle and with one long sweep of my staff, the air shimmered and froze. The instant chill caused my breath to turn to mist as I skewered the backlines of darkspawn archers with pillars of ice. Some of the warriors had turned to me and I rolled out of the way. Twisting around, I slammed the hard wooden staff into the back of their knees. It lost balance and I flipped the weapon around and stabbed it clean through. Warm blood splattered my face as the thing opened its jaws for one last fetid growl. I put my foot on its chest and shoved it off the blade.

The battle was over again. For now.

I turned back to the victim's of the darkspawns attack and froze. Instantly my hands tightened on the weapon before me. A templar. We had saved a templar. I walked cautiously over to my party, picking my way through corpses that reeked of decay. While everything inside me was screaming to defend myself, I remained still. It was a templar yes, but wounded and we had saved his life. Surely he would see reason, I told myself as the fiery headed woman glanced up at us.

The expression in her eyes turned to one of concern as the man beside her struggled to his feet.

"…Darkspawn are… known in their intentions… but a … mage is not." He gasped, taking a sluggish step closer. I moved only a fraction of an inch closer to let him know, without a doubt, that I would take his challenge should he persist.

"Wesley." The woman cautioned, her hand restraining on his shoulder.

"I thought the Templars had all left Lothering." Bethany said, appalled. "The Maker has a sense of humor after all."

"The order dictates…" He mumbled. I felt my brow furrow. A Templar or not, this man was badly wounded. He couldn't possibly wish to fight me. Against my better instincts, I pulled off first.

"Wesley. They saved us – the Maker will understand." The woman said gently. Wesley hesitated and then stepped back. The woman smiled at him with a tenderness that could only mean they were a couple.

"Very well. Until we are out of danger, you and I have an accord mage." He said in defeat.

"My name is Logan Hawke." I said, placing a hand on my chest and nodding in agreement. "This is my family – my siblings Carver Hawke and Bethany Hawke and our mother, Leandra Amell."

"And I am Aveline." The woman introduced herself. "And this my husband, Wesley."

"A pleasure." Bethany said, although the words sounded dry to me.

"You know if you are running from the darkspawn, you are headed in the wrong direction." Aveline said seriously, not noticing the obvious disdain of my sister.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "The horde was behind us."

"They have moved to cut all of us off. If we wish to be safe, the only route left to us is the Kocari Wilds." Wesley added.

I heard Carver curse under his breath and Mother hid her face in her hands. The Wilds… That was no place for us. But it was the only route.

"If it will keep us alive, then we must chance the Wilds." I said.

_And pray that it is not the wrong decision._

* * *

_A little short but I felt like that it was a good ending place._

_Enjoy!_

_-Triade  
_


	3. A Journey in Grief

I stopped walking, more than a little wary of this open space that now yawned in front of us. I frowned. The only way was forward but being without cover? It hardly seemed like a good idea. Aveline was the first to step up and that is when I realized that I had made the first – and hardly last – great mistake of my life.

The ground buckled as the sound of giant footfalls echoed in the still air. I stumbled slightly as the earth shook under me and a massive ogre crested over the hill and into the oval of flat dirt. As soon as it saw us standing there, it charged. I grabbed Carver's arm and yanked him out of the way. I hit the ground hard as the brutish creature rushed past. I struggled to get back on my feet when it turned to Bethany and Mother.

For a split second, Bethany's eyes met my own and fear knotted my stomach to pieces when she turned to face it head on.

"Bethany no!" I screamed, falling over myself in my haste to get to her. The ogre roared and it was the most terrible sound I'd heard, one that would forever haunt my dreams because it grabbed her then. Right before my eyes, the ogre broke my sister – my friend, my family, my confidant – like she was nothing more than a twig. My mother's scream echoed in my ears as it carelessly tossed her aside. In response to my rising temper, the scars on my right eye burned like flames etched into my skin.

I didn't even feel it.

I ran for the ogre in a recklessness that only sprang from grief. The temperature of my blood rose as flames engulfed my fingers and hands and I gathered it all into focus. I flung the ball of fire at the ogre and it nearly fell. An awful noise choked in its throat as angry red burns constricted its arms. I knew that would not be enough to finish it and Carver and Aveline jumped into the fight. Carver's face was pale and drawn – I was proud of him for fighting even when he was terrified.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to stomach some of the bloodlust so I could focus. A clouded mind was only going to get me killed as well. I moved around the fell beast, ducking under clumsy swipes and retaliating with ice, fire and steel. It was Carver who gave me the opportunity to finish it. With a surge of power, I released a lightning bolt. It ripped through the air and hit the ogre through the eye. The smell of burning flesh and ozone followed as the monster gave one final screech and fell to the earth. Putrid blood splattered the leather jerkin I wore and I couldn't help a feeling of disgust.

The gore oozed into my boots as I stepped closer, turning my staff to nudge the creature. It gave no response – it was truly dead.

"Bethany!"

I looked over my shoulder. My mother held my sister's head in her lap, frantically trying to wake her. I shut my eyes tight and then looked up into the sky. I listened with a heavy heart as my eyes pricked with tears. I knew she was gone. Bethany was never the toughest and not even I could have survived a beating so brutal.

And the knowledge that I could have – SHOULD HAVE – prevented this horrible even from happening burned my soul as powerfully as any inferno.

"Why?" My mother shouted and I knew she was yelling at me. "Why didn't you stop her? My sweetheart…!"

Her words choked off and I moved back to them, crouching before my sisters lifeless body. Her broken limbs were plainly obvious and her blood had begun to congeal. I could barely bring myself to look in her brown eyes, fearing that I might see blame… or pain.

I begged the Maker that her death was swift and without suffering as I met those eyes. The prayer did nothing for my guilty soul as I saw only myself reflected in pale brown. I reached out and gently ran my fingers over her eyelids, closing them one last time.

It tore my heart in two knowing that this was the last thing I could do for her.

"I'm sorry. Your daughter is gone." Wesley whispered. Mother sobbed as she buried her face in Carver's shoulder. Pale and withdrawn, Carver couldn't seem to do more than just sit there.

"I will pray for her." Wesley said and I bowed my head in gratitude as he commended her soul to the Maker. I was touched by his kindness for my sister.

"We have to go." Aveline broke the silence gently.

"How could I leave her?" Mama whispered.

"She would not want us to waste the lives she saved Mother." I managed the words past the lump in my throat and she glanced at me accusingly.

"I don't want a hero! I want my daughter!" She snapped and the guilt constricted my heart.

"I know Mother. I want her back too… There's nothing left we can do." I said softly, more urgently. I knew it was my fault. I had not reacted quickly enough and the words repeated steadily through my brain like a vicious mantra. It's my fault, it's my fault…

Mama let loose a shuddering breath and gently rested Bethany's head on the ground. Carver helped her to her feet as we turned to leave.

Too late.

"Damnit." Aveline swore, Wesley now leaning on her heavily. In my sorrow-swamped state, I realized he was not looking well.

I stepped backwards as darkspawn poured out of cracks in the cliff side and from the paths to the wilds. Carver, Aveline and I made a protective half circle while Mother held Wesley up.

"There's too many." Carver hissed to me and I flashed him a wary glance.

"We have no choice. It's fight or die." I murmured and readied whatever spell came first to my mind.

I did not need to cast it. A rumble shattered the pregnant atmosphere and my eye fell upon a strange mound that I had not seen earlier. It was when the mound moved that I realized it was a dragon.

Dread filled me from head to toe. If we had stood a chance earlier, we did not now. Not against a dragon. The darkspawn seemed to grow nervous, shuffling away from the cliff side. My family and friends stayed paralyzed at the side, watching the mythical creature with tense breaths. It drew itself up to its full height and massive wings eclipsed the sun. In a brief moment, I caught its eye and saw an intelligence… and humor?

With a roar, it took off and fire spilled from open jaws. I grabbed Carver's shoulder and dropped to the ground as it flew over us and _**attacked the darkspawn.**_

Within minutes, the massive assault that would have surely overrun us was down to desperate stragglers. A broken scouts body clenched in a massive scaled hand, the dragon turned to look at us. With a shudder through its whole body, it began to shrink. I watched, not quite believing what was happening, as it became an old woman. She threw the darkspawn away from her distastefully and walked towards us.

Carver's hands tightened on the great swords hilt, so tense that the skin over his knuckles turned white. I put a hand on his and shook my head slightly. This old woman was radiating power. It was a fight we would not win.

I got to my feet slowly and she chuckled at my wariness.

"We never used to be that we got visitors to the Wilds. Now it appears the come in hordes." The old woman said with a cackle.

"Thank you for helping us." I said curtly.

"Such politeness. I suppose it is necessary for surely you would have perished." She said with a smile that held darkness. With that, she turned to go but Carver shouted out.

"You can't leave us here!"

I could believe that she would. Someone so old and so powerful was up to their own designs, surely and without fail.

"Is that so?" She said, amused. "I saw the strangest sight. A might ogre vanquished-"

"Not without loss." Carver snapped.

"So I see." She said a little annoyed by his untimely interruption. I flashed him a warning look. "But my curiosity is sated and you are safe. You should know you are headed in the wrong direction if you wish to flee the darkspawn."

"Then do you know the way? We must get to Kirkwall." I explained, gesturing to include my companions and I.

"My, my. That is a long journey indeed." She went quiet, her eyes hooded with thought. Her words were so slow I could only catch snatches of her conversation. She seemed to be arguing with herself over fate and coincidence. Resolved she turned back to me.

"It seems fortune smiles on us both. I might be able to help you yet."

"Anything you could do would be appreciated."

"Should we really trust her? I don't even know who – or what – she is!" Carver protested when Wesley stumbled. He really wasn't looking well. Aveline settled him against the rocks and looked up at the old woman in realization and caution.

"She's the Witch of the Wilds."

The name rang a bell, a faint one but there nonetheless.

"Some call me that. Others Flemeth but it makes no difference to me. Either way, you will need my help if you are to survive."

"It does not matter to me. As long as my family gets away safely, I will do whatever you wish." I said.

"A smart child." Flemeth said, a self satisfied look coming over her face. She offered a hand and I outstretched mine. The solid weight of a locket tumbled into my palm. "Alongside Kirkwall is a great mountain. You will find a Dalish clan there. Take this locket to Marithari, the Keeper and I shall get you across the Wilds."

"You have my word." I said solemnly and tucked it into a pouch. A harsh bout of coughing caught my attention. Flemeth and I turned to Wesley. I was shocked to see a faint spindle of black running through his veins and the cloudiness of his eyes.

"There is the problem of this one. The taint will take him soon enough." Flemeth said and stepped forward. Aveline shot to her feet, stepping in front of her husband protectively.

"You lie." She hissed dangerously.

"The taint?" I repeated confused but attempting to placate the situation.

"Yes. He will turn darkspawn if not dealt with soon." Flemeth explained, eying Aveline.

Aveline looked at me, terrified and anguished. It resurrected the grief and guilt in my heart. I could not save Bethany but…

"Is there any way to help him?" I asked the old Witch beside me.

"The only way I know of is to become a Gray Warden."

"They're extinct." Aveline said flatly. "They all died at Ostagar."

Flemeth chuckled.

"No but the last are far out of your reach."

I had the faint feeling that perhaps she may have been involved in that as well but this was not the time to dwell on that. I looked at Aveline again, apologetic.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"No! NO!" She shouted and I looked down. I had not the words to tell a loving wife that she must let her husband die. It hardly seemed fair for me to decide.

"Aveline." Wesley soft voice drew her back. I could see the unshed tears in her eyes. She knew even as Wesley explained that he felt the corruption that he was already too far gone. She crouched by him and I turned away to give them privacy to say their goodbyes. I did not see Aveline drive the knife into his heart but I heard the sob she choked back.

I had not known her that long but I came and rested my hand on her shoulder.

We all grieved that day as we followed the Witch to the edge of the Waking Sea. Fereldan had driven us from our homes and given us scars that we could never, ever forget.

Scars that I will bear for all time if it meant not forgetting the people that I had lost.

* * *

**Author's Note**

This is so much darker then _Fine Lines_.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Sorry about the delay... and HOLY SHIT.

Six reviews on two chapters. I think that's a new record! Thank you, all of you!

With love

-Triade


	4. An Arrival in Dread

The Witch left us on the outskirt of Gwaren so quickly and silently it was if she vanished into thin air. The only thing I had left to even believe she was real was the memory of a dragon's roar and the amulet heavy in my pocket.

We walked to the docks of the small port town. Despair cloaked this city like a too-heavy blanket and it pressed on our already burdened shoulders. Where a port city should be a crowded, hectic and noisy affair this was a place of desolate silence. The air was still and heavy with sea mist and it muffled the already too-quiet town. Already stores were abandoned and houses had their windows boarded shut. Some appeared to have been looted and carts were left in the streets, some overturned.

The only sound was our breathing and our shoes on the cobblestones. It was the only sign of anything living here. Nerves began to edge and crawl into the dark spaces of my mind and I restrained the need to grab my weapon.

Then came the docks themselves.

Refugees were packed side to side on the small wooden planks and they creaked under the weight of it all. Some sat tucked in with their belongings, others crowded the walls and more sat along the edge of the pier. And it was silent. Not even a childrens voice to be heard.

A long time ago, when I was still a little girl, a plague had swept through Lothering. I had been lucky not to get sick since Father was good with healing magic but others were not so lucky. Many people died that month. I remembered seeing the faces and bodies, hunched and shoulders falling. They looked as if they were carved in stone.

The scene before me was eerily reminiscent of those days. Eyes downcast and shadowed with what they had faced, the barely spared a glance for us as we passed by. Occasionally a wail would break the air and set everyone on edge. Others who heard it would break down in sobs.

This was a place of sorrow and it grasped my heart in a vice.

We weaved through the crowd, my family and Aveline following me. I came to the front of the pier and on the horizon, I could see the boats.

"…Leandra?"

A soft tentative voice caught us all. A woman stood behind us, eyes red as if she had been crying and holding a young child in her arms. I recognized her with a small bit of relief – Elizabeth. She had been a neighbor to us for a very long time.

"Oh Elizabeth!" Mother cried and embraced the woman. Carver and I averted our eyes as the women cried. Elizabeth had lost her husband and two sons in fleeing and we…

I choked back the name. I could not think or I might break down too. A strangled noise from Carver caught my attention. His hand was on the bridge of his nose as he faced down. He was trying to hide it but from the small shake of his shoulders, I knew he was crying. Gently, I rested my hand on his arm. Any other time Carver would have shoved me away like he always did but for now, he allowed me to comfort him.

"Where will you go Eliza?" Mama asked softly.

"We are headed to Starkhaven. My aunt still lives there." Eliza said.

"We are to go to Kirkwall." I murmured, my mother at a loss for words.

"Then I suppose this is goodbye." Eliza whispered.

"For now." Mother said.

Elizabeth gave a shaky smile and let her daughter away as the boats began to dock.

Even the loading was silent. No one pushed or shoved or argued. There was only the occasional cry of a sailor or a gull far above, hidden in the mist. The waves lapped against the rough wooden hull of the ship as I turned to look back to where we had come from. The town of Gwaren, frozen in a sense of suspended time. Beyond the fog shrouded village, the Wilds – a half remembered nightmare of marshes and darkness. And further yet, the body of my sister in the ash forest that remained of our home.

I was rooted to the spot as the sails unfurled and drew us farther and farther away until eventually the gray mist was all that was left of my world.

X

I leaned my head against the mast and cleared my head, trying not to focus on the queasiness in my belly. Already it had been five days trapped in this hold and a storm had passed. By the waves steadily growing in strength, I assumed we were to go through another.

Five days and the air down here was stagnant with the smell of desperation and fear. The sailors had provided us with buckets for bodily uses and the smell of sick and urine made the illness in my stomach more uncomfortable. My family, Aveline and I had gotten the spot under the grate where the mass pierced so the smell wasn't quite so bad as it was in less aerated parts but even the cool air did nothing to help.

Instead, my eyes wandered trying to find something to occupy my mind. Carver was curled in a ball, having suffered from the same sea sickness as I and appeared to be asleep. My mother sat on my other side, her head in her knees. She had hardly moved since we had left Fereldan and the few times she had raised her head, her eyes were dark with loss. It would take many more days before she could speak normally of my sister.

Simply sitting was doing nothing for me, so I stood and did my best not to trip over the many bodies that filled the space. I circled around the mast to talk to Aveline who sat on the opposite of me.

"Logan." She rasped in greeting and I nodded wearily. Aveline had come down with the cough that was rampant here – as sickness often was in crowded places. It was not threatening but I did wish I could do something to ease her sore throat. Even if I could, I could not afford to use magic with all these people around.

She moved aside a few inches to let me wedge myself between her and my sleeping brother.

"How are you?" I asked. It was a foolish question to be asking as everyone down here was very much in the same situation. Either way, I felt I had to.

"….I am… coping." She said. "And you?"

"Coping is as good as any description." I agreed, leaning on my knees.

We sat in a companionable silence for awhile. Aveline was a good woman, a few several years my senior but solid. We had become friends in the short time we had known each other. She was one of the very limited people who did not mind my magic too badly. I had told her quite clearly that I did not tolerate blood magic and she seemed to trust me.

"The captain said it will be a few more days before we reach Kirkwall." I said. A small crack of thunder made Carver jerk in his sleep. The storm was getting closer. Already I could hear rain pattering down on the deck and a small droplet of water hit the back of my neck. I looked up and closed my eyes, black hair falling lopsidedly on my face. It was getting longer. Before it had been no longer then the bottom of my skull and now it was halfway down my neck.

"I hope it will not be too much longer." Aveline said, stretching her legs out as much as the limited space would allow her.

For the first time since my sister died, I let a small worn smile cross my face. I knew what she meant. My muscles were cramped and sore from unuse and I longed to walk about again. The sailors would not even let us on deck.

"Let us hope." I consented.

Another small thread of silence fell on the hold as it began to rain harder, the wind lashing the sails and making an eerie howling noise. It was as if the weather too had been tainted by the Blight with all of these terrible storms. A very loud peal of thunder awoke Carver who had somehow managed to ignore the rain. We would get wet again. There was no way to avoid the water at sea.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"…What does Kirkwall even look like anyway?" He grumbled. Apparently he had not been sleeping at all but listening to our conversation.

"They call it the City of Chains." I answered but that was common knowledge. A small village of Lothering had never heard much of it. Mama never talked of the city itself but rather the estate where she grew up. I knew very little of the place – only that it had a very large amount of Templars. Which is why Mother ran away with Father because Papa was an apostate.

"On the edge of the Tevinter Imperium, it was a slave city." Aveline answered and I glanced at her, mildly surprised she knew so much as I listened on. "They do not trade slaves now – at least not so I've heard. They also took up a new Knight Commander named Meredith. I hear she's very… strict."

Then I must be very careful indeed. A new Templar commander who is very strict could not very well tolerate the presence of an apostate. And my family needed me, no matter how much Carver tried to insist he could handle things. And a poor leader I had made with one sibling gone.

X

Eventually we passed through the string of storms as the days passed. At long last, they let us up to the deck. As I crossed to the very front of the ship, my stomach knotted with pity and perhaps even disgust. Kirkwall was the City of Chains indeed.

Towers of black stone lined the crevices leading into the city. And hanging off these walls were monolith statues made of brass and bronze. The statues depicted a man with his head in his hands, bound at the wrists and feet. They lined the waterway as the ship slid through the passage with ease, each and every statue adding to my distaste. A city grown off the blood and tears and sweat of people whipped and bowed into shape… How could anyone truly be free with these images haunting their minds?

"It's horrible." Aveline said and I nodded mutely. Her face told me that she was just as disgusted as I.

"The Gallows."

Mother's voice caught my attention as Carver helped her up the steps. I offered my arm to her for support and she took it. It was the first words I had heard her speak this entire trip.

"The gates to the city. It was made to scare the slaves coming into Kirkwall." A sailor mentioned to us as we glided into dock. "These days though it houses the Circle – and the Templars."

"The Templars? Really?" Carver looked intrigued and a small knot of dread took root in my chest. When had Carver shown an interest in them? I knew he was unperturbed with the magic that ran deep in the Hawke line and frustrated by what he didn't understand. But would that really make him so fascinated by this?

The sailor and my brother spoke as we pulled in. Our party was pressed to the side as refugees exited the ship. It was then that I saw the hundreds of other refugees clamoring at the gates.

As we stepped onto the ramp, I glanced around. We were missing someone…

Carver stood with his back to me, looking up at the giant square tower that rose ominously into the sky. He did not seem to notice we had left.

"Carver!" I shouted and he turned to look at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face.

"Coming sister." He said and I heard the sarcasm that laced the word. He brushed by me without another glance. I followed after him. We had made it to Kirkwall, but getting here was only the beginning.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I just realized what a journal-esk feel this has to it. It seems like she's narrating her own story through writing instead of telling it as it happens.

I dunno. Enjoy!

OMG - 11 reviews and three chapters. I think that's the most ever. Thank you all! I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

-Triade


	5. A Soul to the Devil

I walked with my family through the stream of refugees, their faces still grim. The travel here was a nightmare… And the sight that greeted us all the more so.

I stopped and looked over to the left where a mass of people had gathered, shouting.

"That's never a good sign." Aveline murmured to me as refugees jostled by us to join the horde. Anger painted the previously worn faces. These people had been through enough… and it was obvious the guards of Kirkwall had shut the gates of the city.

"Stay together." I said and weaved my way between the bodies until we came to the front of the crowd. Sure enough, a tall guardsman – looking notably harassed by the noise – stood with a troop of his men. My eyes roved over the angry faces and then settled on my mother, brother and Aveline. I didn't think it was possible to convince them to let everyone in but perhaps my family. After all, Mother's brother – our uncle Gamlen – had an estate.

Still, the thought of leaving my fellow countrymen stranded here – or worse, sent back to Feralden – tugged on my heart.

"Pardon me." I said, catching the captain's attention. He sighed and walked over to us.

"Look – we're not letting anyone in alright? We'll find some boats for you-"

"You can't send us back there!" Carver snapped.

"Forgive my brother. He has a short temper." I apologized with a sigh, rubbing my forehead. I felt his eyes attempting to bore a hole through my back. Really, that boy… "Is there anyone in charge we can talk to?"

"Yes, yes. You'll want to talk to Captain Enwald. I'm just here to stop you from climbing the bloody walls." He snapped.

I nodded curtly and walked past him, deeper into the Gallows. The air here was cooler and sheltered from the sun. My boots clacked on the stone and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Carver inspecting the place.

I tried not to let it get to me but nevertheless I felt an inkling of annoyance with him and for reasons still unclear to me.

In what I assumed was the main courtyard, there were two large gates. The one in front of us seemed to lead deeper into the Gallows and one that came to another set of docks. Beyond those docks was the city of Kirkwall. However, it was shut tight and guarded heavily. There also seemed to be no boats on this side of the channel.

More refugees clustered under shady walkways and interspersed here and there was the occasional Templar or mage. Thankfully, the Templars were fairly easy to spot with their distinguishable armor and the way they carried themselves. While I looked over things, apparently Aveline had asked a guardsman who Captain Enwald was.

"He's over there." Aveline said to me, pointing out a man in front of the Gallows gate. He appeared to be arguing with someone.

"Thanks Aveline." I replied and led them up to the man. Captain Enwald had company and it was not of the friendly kind. The mercenaries had apparently been here for three days and wanted in. Though, if I had any such say, I would not let these kinds of people in. They were a certain brand of desperation that caused problems.

"Captain Enwald?" I asked and the mercenary leader glared at me. I ignored it simply. If I had let him speak, their argument would have never ended.

"Yes." He said exasperated. "Look – there's no more room. No one gets into the city."

"But we have family!" Carver said and the man shook his head.

"I've heard stories like that before." The guard captain explained and I watched the mercenaries carefully. They didn't look to happy with this conversation.

"This one is true." I assured him. "My uncle Gamlen is a noblemen and my mother was once one as well. Gamlen Amell."

"Gamlen?" The captain was dubious. I glanced at Mother, who looked confused. "The only Gamlen I know is a weasel."

"Could that be him?" I asked Mama.

"I suppose…"

"If it will help, I can bring your uncle here. But that's all I can do." Captain Enwald said.

"That is more than enough." I said gratefully. "I thank you."

The captain actually allowed a small smile across his features before the mercenary leader exploded.

"This is ridiculous! I WILL get inside this city!"

In a flurry of action, weapons were out and a brawl began. People were roughly shoved out of the way or ran screaming as more archers appeared from the bordering crowds. Mother moved off to the side as I spun my staff experimentally, working out the kinks in my muscles from being shut in a ship's hold for so long. I was not the best of warriors without my magic but I was certain I could handle a few deserters.

Instead of joining my brother and friend in the front lines, I retreated to the sidelines. I went after the archers first – who would no doubt be an issue to Carver. He was so blind when it came to arrows. The man saw me coming but could not draw his weapon before I opened his stomach in one swipe. The cold steel tore through his flesh easily and the blade turned crimson. Another archer by him whipped around and fired an arrow. I ducked until it easily and spun the weapon around, slamming the wooden end into his chest. As he fell, I swept the weapon upwards. It hit his jaw with a sickening crunch.

A few of the close quarter mercenaries saw my fight and broke away to deal with me. I grabbed the body next to me and pulled hard. The charge the man had meant to skewer me killed his comrade instead. I sidestepped around nimbly before he could pull his sword out and stabbed him. The two others glanced at each other, wary. I waited until they charged from opposite sides. As one passed by, I tripped him and he tripped the other.

The man on the bottom had lost his weapon completely and I kicked the others out of his hands and away from his reach, my blade worrying his throat.

The battle had apparently ended because two guardsmen came over and hauled them up, giving me a brief nod. I returned the gesture and turned around, breathing heavily. The once clean courtyard now glistened crimson. Already carrion birds had descended. The guards shooed them off as they began to drag the corpses away. Obviously such fights were not a rare occurrence.

I would have to be on my guard if we were to live in this city. I frowned a tiny bit – was this truly a place for my mother and brother?

It was a disturbing first impression.

I came to stand by Mother, carefully avoiding the blood-soaked spots. Not like it mattered much as my clothing was already clotted with dried gore both human and darkspawn. When on the run, it does not give one much of a chance to clean up. Thankfully the rain that had fallen through the grate had washed most of the stink away.

"Thank you." The captain said.

"I am glad to help." I replied truthfully.

"I will see your uncle found." Captain Enwald said and it was obviously a dismissal.

"Well fought Logan." Aveline commented as we made our way to a secluded corner to wait.

I flashed her a worn out smile as I sank to sit down. Mother sat next to me and Carver was still looking over the courtyard.

I had no idea that it would take three long days for the guards to track down Gamlen.

In that time I passed the hours by watching the way the mages and Templars interacted here in Kirkwall. I hoped to pick up some tips on how to avoid looking like… well like a mage. And all together it seemed practically impossible not to seem suspicious. The Templars were very on edge and many of them feared their new commander. Fear… That was a never a good sign in leadership. I'm sure some of them respected her but it seemed like most of the younger ones were scared witless.

So long as I didn't use my magic recklessly though I would have a good chance of going unnoticed. With this many refugees at their doorstep, any number of them could seem more like an apostate then me. Although I hardly wished the fate of templar wrath on any poor soul.

I also had the chance to speak with Carver. It was hardly a private conversation so I simply admonished him on his disrespectful behavior. He simply shrugged me off with:

"Whatever you say Sister. I'm tired of just following you like everyone else."

The words stung but I understood where he was coming from. I just did not agree with it. He did not have to be in my shadow and be respectful at the same time. I did not argue with him when he obviously wanted me to be angry. Now was certainly not the time for arguments.

He knew better than anyone but Mother not to prod at my temper.

It was a hot day when Gamlen finally appeared. We had been sitting in the shade of the terrible statues depicting a whipped slave when a man with graying hair finally appeared.

"Gamlen!" Mother shouted and ran to embrace him. I assumed it must be him if Mother recognized the man. I had never met my uncle so I wouldn't know him from any other person. He only very slightly resembled Mother now that I saw him directly.

"Bethany didn't survive the trip and now we can't get into Kirkwall." Mother spilled out. Gamlen's reaction made me push off the side of the wall. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Don't drop this on me now Leandra."

He almost snapped it.

"She was your niece." I said coldly.

Gamlen looked at me, a hint of surprise crossing his eyes before fading back to weariness. He didn't even have the decency to look slightly ashamed. Uncle or not, I did not like this man. And by the threadbare clothing he wore and the faint smell of cheap alcohol, he was no noble either.

"Can you get us in?" I asked. For the moment, everything else did not matter.

"Look – you have to understand-" Gamlen started.

"But what about the estate? Surely Father left something when he died?" Mother interrupted.

"The estate's gone okay?"

"What happened?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"I…." Gamlen shifted, looking uncomfortable and shifty eyed. I knew that look all too well. Bethany and Carver unconsciously did it when they had done something wrong. "I sold it. To pay off a debt."

"What?!" Carver shouted and Gamlen glared balefully at him. Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Can you at least get Mother in?" I asked calmly.

"No! Everyone goes." Mama ordered, shaking her head.

"I tried greasing some palms okay?" Gamlen protested. "But with Knight-Commander Meredith cracking down we're going to need more grease."

"And what do you suggest? We have no money on us." I replied. I had a feeling I knew where this was going…

"Well… I know some people. The good news is that they can pay to get you all into the city."

"And the bad news?"

"…You'll have to work for them. For a year."

There was a pause in the conversation as we all absorbed this information.

"…You're selling us in indentured slavery?" I repeated, making sure I had got this correctly.

"Gamlen!" My mother shouted. "You're selling my children!"

"And Aveline, who doesn't deserve to be mixed up in this mess." I added with a sigh. "Surely you don't intend to make her work as well?"

"It is alright Logan. If it will help get us all into the city, I do not mind." The red head said with a brief smile.

"Thank you Aveline." I said, appreciating her help in all of this. I turned back to Gamlen. "So who are these people and where can we find them?"

"You'll want to talk to either Meeran of the Red Iron or…. I can never remember her name. She's a smuggler." He said, scratching his head.

"I suppose I will talk to Meeran then." I said. "I will not work for smugglers."

I turned on my heel then to find this Meeran fellow. Carver did not look happy with my sudden decision but I would not have him working for smugglers either. Aveline seemed to appreciate my choice. Thankfully, we did not have to search. A well muscled man can to direct us to him.

"Meeran?" I asked a balding man with a finer tunic then those around him.

"You must be the kids Gamlen told us about." Meeran said and inspected us. I calmly bore the scrutiny, my eyes closed and arms crossed lightly. Carver squirmed beside me and Meeran rose an eyebrow at Aveline.

"Didn't tell me about a red head though."

"She's a friend of ours. She's willing to work if you'll pay her way as well." I said.

He examined us for a few more moments and then looked back to me distastefully.

"Can you even fight without that eye?" He asked doubtfully.

I did not like people questioning about my scarred half but it was understandable.

"I can fight well enough." I responded vaguely. At least Gamlen had the faintest shred of intelligence not to tell him that I was a mage. And that answer was true enough. I had taken many great pains to learn to fight with one eye blind. I still reacted a little slower on my right but I was not often caught off guard.

"Hmmmm…" Meeran said, thinking. "Fine. I'll give you test. Noble bastard named Friedrich is here in the Gallows. He betrayed some my men. I want you to show him what happens to people that mess with the Red Iron."

"Very well." I said. I would rather not work of mercenaries or smugglers but I didn't have much of a choice. I was sure this was a much better option.

"There he is." Carver said as we were walking by the entrance to the circle. I followed his finger to a nobleman. He certainly looked shady.

"We don't know if it's him or not Carver." I said and walked over to where he pointed. When he began to look frustrated I added on, "But good eyes."

It seemed to annoy him even further. I moved up to them slowly. They didn't seem to notice us and I caught a few snatches of conversation. They did seem to be avoiding someone. The man in the noble garb also seemed to be on edge.

The clinking of Carver's greatsword being drawn drew their attention and I stepped forward.

"Who are you?!" Friedrich demanded. His small battalion of guards milled around, eagerly grabbing their weapons. Friedrich was also armed with daggers. I wondered if he could actually use them. "I demand to know at once."

"Someone is of a mind to have you killed. Do you have anything to say?" I asked, being purposely roundabout.

"Meeran must have sent them." A hire said.

"I'm not an idiot – I could have figured that out myself!" Friedrich snapped. "Look – I don't know what that bastard is paying you but I'll double it! Just let me go."

I examined him coolly. A nobleman yes but with such disreputable company could he truly keep his word? And there was Meeran to consider and that was a very hefty weight on the scales.

"Get us into the city." I said. Fair was fair. The very reason we were working for Meeran was for that and if this man could pay then it was fair. However, I did not think he could and I was right.

"I don't have that kind of money!"

"Then I apologize." I said, drawing my weapon. A stream of curse words that could make milk curdle streamed from the man's mouth. I was unimpressed and went straight for the right hand guard. The guard was obviously not expecting this and the blow was deadly, straight through the heart. Aveline's shield collided with Friedrich's face to my right, causing his nose to break.

He drew his daggers and frantically called for help. More guards appeared and Carver and I went back to back while Aveline chased Friedrich, being closer and not cut off. It turns out he was no slouch with the weapons and I hoped Aveline would be alright. The rest of them circled around us and I twirled my weapon slowly, waiting. Carver had no such patience and I heard him growl and charge. The man he charged had been using the same tactic as I had and moved out of the way and his blade rose in a deadly fashion.

I threw the staff hard and it sliced his tunic, drawing a fine line of blood. Due to my lack of depth perception, I had never been good at anything involving throwing or bows but he did stumble. I dodged the next man and rolled. I grabbed my staff and slid onto my feet in a single smooth movement. Carver looked massively angry and I gave him a small glare. He would have been killed without my help. I couldn't bear to lose another sibling due to my stupidity. It didn't matter if he hated me for it.

Then the guard recovered far faster than I expected. His sword flashed out from the right and I moved a tad bit too slow, distracted by Carver's recklessness. The cold metal bit into my side but left only a little sting. A scratch.

I twisted the staff and slammed it into the side of his skull. He fell hard.

It did not take long after that to finish everything up.

Meeran came as I picked a small pouch off of Friedrich's belt. It was gold and I flashed Meeran a questioning look. He shrugged and I pocketed the money.

"I see it's done. Good. May the vultures feast on his corpse and shit him into the sea." Meeran said and spat on the corpse.

I was not one for this kind of disrespect for the dead but I bore it if not with disdain.

"I'm going to start talking like that if we join up." Carver whispered to me.

"You certainly will not." I disagreed strongly. "Disrespecting the dead is a foul thing to do."

Before he could argue, Meeran spoke up and I turned my attention to him and ignored Carver.

"Welcome to the Red Iron." Meeran said as warmly as I'm sure the man could manage. "I'll make the arrangements now. Go and tell your uncle."

I bowed my head politely and turned back for the courtyard. So we had gained entrance into the city. But working with mercenaries? It would be a long year ahead of me.


	6. A Life in Dust

"The house is this way." Gamlen said, leading us through the section of Kirkwall known as Lowtown. Meeran had given us this day off to get used to the city, telling us that if we didn't know where we were going then we were of no use to anyone.

So far I had memorized the basic outlay of the city. It would take longer to get to know all the side passages and alleyways but if nothing else I was a quick learner. I always had to be. There was Hightown where all the richer people lived. I also caught a glimpse of the Vicount's keep, the ruler of Kirkwall. I hoped not to go there anytime soon. Supposedly our families' estate was in that area as well but Gamlen seemed to be most determined to avoid the topic.

Lowtown was just as the name described. Thieves and refugees. The desperate and the determined all thrown together between sand colored buildings and the smells of markets, refuse and sweat. I kept a close eye on our purses as we walked. While I would be more than happy to help some of these people, my family must come first.

Some of them seemed to know Gamlen as well and some of them not in a friendly manner. I was dubious that this was really our uncle. How could a weasel be related to someone like mother?

"This is it." Gamlen said as we crested the top of a stairway. The crest of Kirkwall was sloppily painted over an iron door. Mother looked…. Dismayed. I could not blame her. She had been expecting an estate, not a hovel.

Carver looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I shook my head slightly to let him know I was thinking the same thing. He sighed and scratched the back of his head as Gamlen fished out a suspicious amount of keys and opened the door. Cramped and smelling strongly of alcohol and urine, this is the place where we would be living. I took a glance in the three side rooms. One looked like it used to be a storage room that was converted into a tiny bedroom. Two cots were stacked to the side, making a rickety structure. A few cloth pieces covered some sacks which I assumed Gamlen meant to be another bed. There was an outhouse and smelled very strongly indeed. Mother wrinkled her nose and I knew she would be cleaning that soon. It took all my willpower not to do the same. Gamlen's room was bigger than our little three bed room and extremely messy.

We all wandered back into the main room where Mother glared at Gamlen. She looked about to say something very scathing when there was a tentative knock at the door. I strode over to open it and Aveline stood in the doorway. She had left us in Hightown, having wanted to look around some more.

"I see you found us." I said. I opened the door and gestured for her to come in. I also threw a hard look at my uncle who looked about to protest. Aveline was our friend; she was more than welcome here.

"It took some work." Aveline said with a small smile.

"What did you find? You were gone for quite some time."

She went quiet for a moment, shifting a little bit.

"I went to the guard captain." She finally said. "He offered to pay off my debt to the mercenaries if I worked for the guard."

"That's great news! You'll do well with the guard I should think." I stated with a smile.

Aveline looked relieved at this revelation and I shook my head.

"Did you think that I would be angry?" I asked.

"Perhaps." She admitted. "Although I see I was wrong."

"Good luck Aveline."

"Come back and visit too!" Carver said and for once, I managed a smile my difficult younger brother.

X

Gamlen was all but intolerable. My quiet coolness unnerved him more then he would ever admit and he would often lash out about my eye and at my mother. I quickly set him to straights when he yelled at Leandra over Bethany and he has not done so since. At least, not while I was around. Mother and I did our best to clean up. I didn't truly think the stink would ever quite leave the walls as if it had filled every pore and hollow and infested it with the foul stench of desperation and guilt. Which was all Gamlen reeked of.

The work in the Red Iron was tough but that was the fate of all Fereldans that wished to make a life in Kirkwall. Here it was difficult to find any job let alone eke out any sort of living for your family. At the very least I could afford to feed them but Gamlen's insatiable gambling fetish was leaving it hard for me to make sure the money went to my mother and not my uncle. Although sometimes I was forced to pay him as a bribe for not revealing my apostate status for a reward. The man was a snake.

Within the past five months, I had risen through the ranks considerably. Unlike most of the Red Iron, I was able to keep my head and keep calm. This was greeted by my fellow mercenaries with varying degrees of respect – and laughter. Many of the lower ranking soldiers were envious of my rise to power and they showed their dislike of me with taunts and snide comments, mostly about my lack of humor. They were easy to shut out and Meeran quickly began to find fault with them for doing so.

And as I began to gain status within both the Red Iron and Kirkwall, my relationship with Carver began to fall steadily. I struggled to hold on to broken strings as he grew more and more despondent and irritated towards me. Several times I even caught him among those who taunted me. It was confusing and painful and I was careful to keep all traces of my turbulence off my countenance. I understood and I felt guilty for his feelings. After all, I knew how crushing living in someone's shadow could be… I had spent the years since Father's death trying to fill his shoes.

I found a friend in Aveline however. She and I shared a similar passion for honesty and justice. I would often come to speak with her of Carver. At one time, she asked me how I stayed so collected when it must cause me so much pain. It was because I must. I told her I meditated – a secret taught to me by a man from a far off land whom my father helped – to keep my mind clear in all situations. What I did not tell her is that I had to keep everything squashed down for fear of losing to control. Nevertheless, it helped.

That was also the year the qunari had come to Kirkwall.

Meeran was one of the first to show up at the Docks when they arrived and had brought me with him. Carver, as I later learned, followed us.

"Look at those gray skin bastards. Just waitin' for the chance." Meeran said in disdain. "They'll kill ya just cause you looked at em wrong. Now they're in our city, mucking the walls with their stench."

I did not answer my leader but simply watched as the strange creatures unloaded from the slaver vessel that had found them at sea. Massive and gray skinned indeed with horns that spiraled back from their heads and eyes as red as blood. Dozens of them moved from the hold of the ship, waterlogged and tired but the exhaustion only tempered the pride in their eyes. These were warriors with honor. I doubted they would be so keen to start a fight as Meeran had observed.

If anyone would be starting a fight it would be Kirkwall's people. Already I could see the disgusted expressions as the qunari filed onto the stone slabs of Kirkwall's port. The city was already full of Blight refugees and it had plenty of impoverished before these new arrivals. I had an inkling that this could not end well. Desperate people where often driven to desperate ends.

That is when Knight-Commander Meredith appeared. I had not met the woman – as I was certain she could tell I was an apostate – and tried to avoid the Templars all together. However, I had seen her quite frequently from the rooftops or alleyways. While she was intensely mistrustful of mages, she seemed to have a great deal of respect for the city and its people. For that, I was glad. The qunari would draw fear from the people if they lived among us and I had seen a small camp being set up towards the main road to Lowtown.

This would be the qunari zone until their ship came for them, as they insisted so many times when asked what happened.

While Meeran was content to curse and mumble under his breath, I simply watched as the warriors moved by. In a heartbeat, one looked up at me with red eyes and I stared back. I knew how I must appear – ragged and with the wind tearing at my now shoulder length hair, as black as night. And I saw him as a warrior. I bowed my head slightly in respect and welcome and the qunari looked away and the moment was over.

X

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" Carver shouted at me. "IF IT WASN'T BECAUSE OF YOU, BETHANY WOULD STILL BE HERE!"

I stood unflinchingly. The words were like a knife to the heart but it would be better for Carver just to get it out. And… it truly was my fault. I should have been looking after her more strongly. The guilt had wracked me these many months and I often lay awake thinking of it. I was never eager to fall asleep for my dreams were always restless and painful. The makeshift bed I slept on did not help much either. The sacks were stuffed with old cloth and smelled faintly of vinegar and other less pleasant scents and would sometimes worsen the nightmares that plagued my guilty mind.

"I know Carver. I'm sorry." I said seriously.

"You don't even care do you!" He accused and whirled away.

"Carver. Carver wait. We're on a mission remember?" I said, stepping forward as he reached the entrance of the alley we had been taking shelter in.

"I don't care. I'll find him myself. WITHOUT you." He huffed, throwing me a glittering glare before vanishing into the noisy markets of Lowtown. My eyes lingered for a moment even though I knew he was long gone and then I sighed and slumped against a wall, my tall and confident posture vanishing under the burden of his words.

Things were getting harder.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, trying my best to think of nothing. I had to focus on the target this time. That's when a pitiful whine caught my attention. I looked over my shoulder slowly to see a scrawny puppy sitting on his haunches. When I turned he looked up at me with pitiful amber eyes before bowing his head quickly and curling into a pathetic ball. I blinked, recognizing the collar that was too-tight around his neck.

I reached down and the terrified scrap of fur yelped and stumbled over a crate, a loose piece of leather catching on a stray nail. He yanked against the restraint and I could see he was going to choke himself if I didn't do something quickly.

I crouched slowly and began to speak, slowly and calmly and tried to keep the energy I was giving off as calm as possible.

"It's okay. Calm down. I won't hurt you. No. I would never hurt you little one. It's alright." I murmured softly and his frantic clawing lessened.

"It'll be okay. I'm going to help you." I said gently, reaching for a knife in my boot. He made one last pull and then collapsed on the ground, foam speckling his lips. Alarmed, I sliced through the leather collar quickly. Removing it I could see the scar it had left around the young creatures neck and I wondered how he could even breathe. Breathe. I looked it over carefully and was relieved to see a faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

It was hard to tell with the grimy and matted coat but I was sure he a russet color. And the body shape looked familiar even if it was not fully developed. I glanced at the collar and back. A mabari definitely. And if this collar was anything to go by, it was the very same man I was after who owned him. The man was a mabari master as he called himself. But his ridiculous blindness had led him to believe fear could control these massive and beautiful creatures. He abused and berated them and treated them as a much a slave as a normal slave. The nobles of Kirkwall had taken offense and asked Meeran to help get rid of him.

So this puppy was one of his kennels. It was no wonder the tiny thing was in such bad shape. I frowned deeply. Nothing – human or creature – should have to go through something like this. The target would be passing this way soon but I couldn't bring myself to leave the puppy's side. Carver could probably handle this on his own… but I was worried about him. My heart was torn.

A gentle stirring at my side told me the pup would be waking up soon. And it would probably run in fear. But in a city so full of starving people I doubted he would last long, even with the lack of meat on his bones. I could see his ribs clearly. I gently rifled through the pouch on my belt and brought out a strip of tough dried jerky. It was easy to get – hunting was still plentiful outside of the city – and easy to make so I did not feel badly about sharing it. I tore the stringy pieces into smaller chunks and tried to soften them up as the mabari woke up.

Just as I suspected, he made to run when his nose caught the scent of food. I gently placed a chunk in front of me and shuffled back slowly to let him know I would let him eat. As he leaned forward to eat it, he froze solid. I followed his eyes back and for a brief second it was quiet. And then a loud cacophony of barking dogs filled my ears as the mabari master was pulled along into the ally way. The puppy bolted and I grabbed my staff as the mabari tried to chase the pup. I smacked the noses of the ones who tried and they quickly started milling about uncertainly.

"What are you doing?" The master said angrily. "That's my dog that you let get away!"

I threw the collar at his feet.

"He no longer has the chains to bind him. But you will feel a collars sharp bite soon enough." I said softly. The man's face contorted furiously and he charged. But the dogs slunk back as their human 'master' fought the stranger.

I stepped out of the way lightly, sweeping my staff the knock the back of his knee as he passed. He tripped and ran nose to nose with a very angry Carver. Carver slammed the guy with the pommel of his greatsword and I stepped in to knock the man out but Carver cut me off. I understood his posture and hung back, swiping my staff at any mabari that tried to join the fight. It was midway through that I saw something that Carver obviously missed. The master had pulled out a throwing dagger from behind his boot as Carver held him against a wall. He was in a position to miss it and I jumped in to knock it out of the mabari masters hand. Carver interfered, pushing at me from the side but the dagger was still coming.

I slammed my staff into Carvers' knee and knocked him off balance, taking the blow to the shoulder. The metal bit down deep and I refused to let it show. Instead the blunt wooden end of my weapon connected with the mabari masters temple and he fell unconscious. The mabari ran at the sight of their master defeated.

"I told you to always watch your enemies feet." I said, deadpanning as I pulled the dagger out of my shoulder. Luckily only half the blade had gone in.

"Why didn't you stay out of it?! I could have had that!" He argued, getting back up to his feet. His blue eyes smoldered fiercely.

"You would have died Carver. The dagger would have hit you straight in the hard." I said firmly.

"I was-"

"Enough. Go back to Meeran and take this fellow with you." I said with an air of finality.

He gave me a long glare before heaving the fallen mabari master and heading the other way down the alley. A short cut to the Red Iron that would prevent s from having to go into the marketplace carrying an unconscious man over our shoulder.

When Carver was out of sight, I slid down the wall with a sigh, wincing slightly when the motion pulled at my wound. I could feel a small ooze of blood but it wasn't too bad. I picked up the ruined pieces of jerky in my hand ruefully. I didn't like wasting food and that mabari puppy was long gone by now.

To my surprise, there was a small shuffling noise behind the crate and a small russet head popped out. I smiled briefly – the first in a long time – and fished more jerky out from my belt, repeating the same process. He came closer, lured by the scent of meat. When I finished softening it, I gently tossed it to where he stopped. He skittered back a few feet but when I didn't move, he came forward and ravenously licked it up.

So I threw another one. This time I threw it a little bit closer. He looked at me suspiciously and then hesitantly moved forward. I waited until he had it down firmly before going to throw him another. This time, however, he came before I even tossed it. I waited, the slightly greasy meat between my thumb and forefinger as he approached. When he hovered his mouth over, I made no movement and he snatched it.

Within a process of fifteen minutes, he retreated and returned with less and less time between intervals until he was happily chewing beside me. He even allowed me to stroke his ears softly and his tail began to thump. I felt… happy and pleased. It had been quite some time since I felt this kind of contentment.

Then the pup gave me a little surprise and jumped on my lap and stuck his muzzle right in my face. I met his eyes calmly and his intelligent amber eyes stared into my one eyes. We stayed like that for a moment before he lightly brushed his tongue over my face and curl up in my lap.

If there was ever a sign of passing leadership, it had been that moment. I scratched him behind his ears, thinking. Obviously he had just accepted me as his master and he had never accepted the mabari master. If I left, this pup would be scarred for life.

But certainly I couldn't afford to keep a puppy around? I worked for mercenaries and this little creature would probably follow me around everywhere… and in Gamlens house? How would Mother feel? And surely Gamlen would throw a fit.

Maybe though… I looked at the scrap in my lap with a faintest flash of hope. Mother had been terribly depressed since Bethany's death and our indentured servitude. Perhaps if she had another creature to care for, it would help. A dog could never fill the gap Bethany's death had left on all of our hearts but perhaps it would ease the pain.

"But first." I said and the puppy looked up at me, tail wagging slightly. "You need a name."

He barked hoarsely and I wondered if he was truly smart enough to understand what I was saying. They said mabari were smart enough to do so. I thought for a moment. A good name for a dog who was male? A polite glance at his hindside told me I was right.

I went through a dozen names before I remembered the name of an old friend. He had been kind and loyal, just as a mabari was.

"Owen." I said, decided. "Your name is Owen."

He licked my hand, wagged his tail and returned to his ball. I suppose he liked his new name.

But a puppy? Surely my life would get too dangerous… But as I stared up at the sky, I realized I didn't regret my decision at all.

Owen would stay.


	7. A Balm for the Soul

I walked back through the streets a few hours later, the night shadows easy to hide in. I pulled my hood up over my face – the one eyed woman, my newest nickname, was getting far too well known… with far too many enemies. Lowtown had become familiar in my mercenary work. I made for home quietly. The bundle in my arms shifted and Owen's bright amber eyes peeked out from under my cloak. He sniffed carefully and then retreated to the safety of my arms.

It had taken me quite some time to get him to get used to the feel of being carried and he refused to poke his head out for more than a few minutes at a time. I assumed it would take a long while for him to overcome his fears of the world – those experiences had not been kind to him. The reminders were all too clear in how alarmingly light he was. At this age he should at least be twenty five pounds if not more. Instead he felt feather light and all pointy bones.

I paused in front of the house and twisted my nose in disgust. Gamlen had been drinking again. The smell of alcohol and stale vomit was horrifyingly pungent. I opened the door and closed it quietly. The kitchen was empty, the fire down to a few glowing coals. Owen pressed himself closer to me as I carefully took my cloak off. A panicked whine began in the back of his throat and I was well enough acquainted with the knowledge of safe zones to know he was going into a full out panic attack. I quickly set him on the floor and draped the cloak around us. He calmed down immediately and he looked at me with frightened eyes.

"It's alright. This is my home dear one. No harm shall come to you." I said softly and stroked his head until his shaking stopped. He got to his feet, unsteady from malnutrition, and stumbled outside of the cape. I watched as he sniffed cautiously and then zipped back to me. I kept my place on the floor and waited patiently until he was comfortable outside. I set the cape on the floor and got to my feet. He stuck close to my legs as I walked quietly across the room, almost tripping me at points. I reached into the pantry and took out more dried meat. Owen's nose immediately went into the air and I chuckled as his ears pricked.

I softened it again and then fed him some more strips. He gulped them down with gusto and then whined at me for more. I shook my head and stowed the rest away. He would only make himself sick if he ate more. Owen wasn't used to this much food yet.

He didn't seem to understand why I wasn't feeding him more. He gave a loud yip and I kneeled down, afraid that he had woken someone up.

"Hush Owen." I said sternly and he closed his mouth obediently. "You'll get ill if I feed you more. Tell me when you are very hungry again."

"Logan?"

I jerked my head up at the call of my name and Owen whimpered, jumping into my arms at the sight of another person. I cradled him in my arms and looked up at my Mother in her night gown.

"It's me Mother." I said softly, calming the puppy down.

"Who do you have with you?" She asked, keeping her voice down as well. Leandra walked closer and Owen hid behind my legs, his ears flat against his head. "A puppy?"

She went still and crouched, having experience with terrified animals before. Her dress pooled over her legs as I explained what happened. Owen began to calm at the sound of my voice and became brave enough to come and sit beside me, watching Mother suspiciously.

"I see." Leandra said. "What a terrible man. Carver came home earlier but said nothing."

"I imagined he wouldn't." I replied. "Is Gamlen here?"

Mother's lips pursed in distaste.

"He is. Although I doubt anything short of a stampede could wake him."

I nodded mutely. The man had drunk himself into a stupor. I wondered if Carver had given him money for drinks to spite me, after I specifically told him not to.

"And this is Owen?" Mothers tone and face took a turn for the gentle as she looked at the tiny creature at my side. His ears perked at the sound of his name. Owen looked up at me, unsure what to do. I smiled at him comfortingly.

"Come here Owen. It's alright. I won't hurt you." Leandra called.

Owen looked up at me and then back at Mother. He tilted his head and sniffed the air before looking back up and me and whining.

"It is all right. She raised me." I said gently. I don't know whether he understood the bond between us but he stepped forward tentatively and kept moving until he sat in front of Leandra. He looked back at me, unsure. I nodded and he looked back at Mother as she raised her hand and gently rested it on his head.

He flinched but once the gesture brought no pain, the tension in his muscles dissolved and he let Mother pet him.

"He's so skinny.." Mother fretted as she put him in her lap. Owen seemed to be enjoying the attention.

"I fed him as much as I could without making him ill." I said and Mother nodded. She had been the one to teach me of malnutrition when we had been caring for a colt that had wandered away and returned as sickly as Owen.

"Well then, it's late and rest will do as all some good." Mother said briskly and reached to pick Owen up. He squirmed away from her and scampered back to me. I blinked, astonished but nevertheless leaned down to pick him up.

I followed Mother into our makeshift bedroom where she slid into the bottom bunk. All I could see of Carver on the top bunk was a tussle of black hair and the rise and fall of his chest. I made haste to slip into the simple trousers and lawn shift I slept in – as it was quite cold now the sun had gone down – and lay down on the burlap sacks that made up my bed. I looked down at Owen on the floor who was looking at me inquisitively. I patted the empty spot next to me. There wasn't much room but I could share.

He scrambled up and caught his paw on the burlap sack and tumbling off the edge, looking confused as to what had just happened. I felt a laugh in the back of my throat that I restrained. I didn't want to wake anyone up. Owen attempted it again and made it to the safety of my arms. He curled up with a contented sigh and I gently ran a hand over his back.

He did need a bath though.

X

I woke to the sounds of arguing. It didn't matter as much anyway, since my sleep was rarely peaceful these days. I shifted carefully to avoid waking Owen and got up. A quick glance at the bunk told me Carver had already gone. He must still be angry with me.

I sighed and opened the door to a full blown war between my mother and Gamlen.

"Do you have any idea what it was like?!" Gamlen shouted. "I cared for them when they were ill and where were you?!"

"The twins were a week old!" Mother retaliated. "How could-"

"Please quiet down." I said, respectful and hopefully commanding their attention.

I did command their attention much to my misfortune.

"You know Logan! You know that I could not have come when Bethany and Carver were so young!" Mother said.

"And where was that apostate of yours?!" Gamlen snarled.

"That's quite enough." My words were cold as I stepped forward. No one spoke about my father that way and got away with it. Gamlen looked at me and started mumbling incoherently under his breath.

"I'll be going out then." He said stiffly and slammed the door shut behind him. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. He was getting worse and worse.

"Thank you Logan." Mother said and I smiled briefly.

A little yip caught my attention and I looked at Owen cowering in the doorway. I frowned. Gamlen must have scared him when he shouted and walked out like that.

"Come here, it's alright. He's gone now." I coaxed, crouching and holding my arms out. The pup rushed to me and I held him close.

"It is a good thing Gamlen didn't see him. I don't know how we're going to convince him to let Owen stay." Mother observed and reached to take Owen from me. I transferred him carefully and he leaned into my mother as she whispered softly into his ear, petting him gently.

"He would hardly remember if he was drunk." I observed after a moment and I was startled by my mother's laugh. I hadn't meant it to be funny but I was happy she found it so nonetheless.

"True, true. I can see the look on his face now." Mother chuckled and then wrinkled her nose. "Do you think we can give him a bath? He is rather rank. And I would like to check if he is wounded under all that matted fur."

"We can try." I said and reached over for more meat strips to keep him distracted. Mother nodded, approving as Owen squirmed in her arms at the smell of food. She set him down and went to take the kettle off the fire. It had been meant for porridge but it wasn't quite hot yet and Mother didn't seem to mind.

I kept Owen's attention on me while Mother bustled about. I figured if he was going to stay with us, he should at least know basic commands.

"Sit." I said, wondering what he would do with the command. He looked up at me questioningly. He knew I wanted something from him, he just didn't quite understand what. I demonstrated sitting on the floor and then repeated the command.

Owen blinked and then slowly sat on his haunches.

"What a quick learner." I smiled and gave him a meat strip. He got up and wagged his stubby little tail.

I repeated the sit command three times. By the third, he knew exactly what to do. Mabari were truly brilliant creatures. But now that I was looking at him in a better light I realized he wasn't just mabari. There was something else mixed in – his muzzle didn't have the bear like attribute that a pureblood mabari had. Instead it was slimmer and a little longer. His fur was too long for a mabari coat and of an unusual color. His stub was longer than the usual tail, his paws smaller and his legs longer. His right ear also flopped over but that was a trait in all puppies.

But the differences were fairly subtle – except for the muzzle and coat he looked like a true Mabari warhound. Obviously his intelligence was not affected by his breeding and I'm sure I would not care even if it was.

I watched as Mother poured a mixture of warm and cool water into the small bin we used for laundry and nodded to me. I started to walk away, holding the meat in my hand to coax Owen over. He was smarter than most dogs however and saw the waiting tub. He tilted his head and I saw his brow wrinkle. It was a most amusing expression.

Owen trotted up to the basin, knowing that's where I was trying to lead him. He sniffed the water and then sniffed my mother's hands where she held the soap and promptly dove right in. My mother made a protesting noise as Owen popped his head back up, soaking a part of her dress. Already I could see the dust coming off him and turning the water brown.

He yipped at me and looked at the meat in my hand.

_I did what you wanted. Feed me now? _Was all the translation I needed.

I chuckled and gave it to him, ruffling his ears. His tail thumped against the bottom of the basin as we gently scrubbed his back. Instead of panicking, like I had been expecting, he seemed to be enjoying the attention.

I frowned as the knots in the fur refused to come loose, no matter how much soap or gently coaxing I used. Mother seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"We'll have to cut his fur down and wait till it regrows." She sighed, admitting defeat.

"I could more easily check for wounds if his fur was shorter too." I agreed and took a small knife from my belt. Owen tensed up and I stopped, letting him examine it. He watched me for a moment and then relaxed. I was touched by his trust. He wasn't exactly happy as I began to carefully saw off chunks of fur but he wasn't going to bolt either.

I began to see more and more of the effects of his starvation. The short fur clung to his skeletal frame. It was a miracle he had survived this long. I could see the anger on my Mother's face and she swept up the fur chunks to place on a linen cloth to be thrown out. When I couldn't cut anymore – the areas around his ears and his ankles – we did our best to untangle the mats. The job was made harder by Owen turning around to see what we were doing. He also discovered we would retreat when he splashed us.

By the time the bath was over, Mother and I might as well have had one too. We were soaked. Owen seemed to find this funny however and had a big lipped smile on his muzzle. I took a linen and pulled him out onto my lap, seeing as I was already wet anyway. I dried him briskly and carefully. He made a surprised noise when the white cloth fell over his head and stumbled out of from underneath looking very confused.

I chuckled low in my throat and took another linen to dry out my hair. Owen shook himself and I was glad to see he was at least somewhat recovering his more natural instincts. I had to admit, he looked much better, if not a little silly. The longer fur around his ears stuck up oddly in a contrast to the short and uneven fur that covered the rest of him now. The fur had been revealed to be a rich warm mahogany color under all the dirt and while there had been a lot of scars, there were no open wounds. A relief to be sure.

"Now all he needs is some feeding and he will be just fine." Mother said, beginning to mop up the water mess Owen had made. I went to help her, picking up the bin to dump outside. Owen stuck close to me much more energetic after a good meal and a good night's rest. Now standing up confidently, he came up the middle of my calf. He'd looked much smaller earlier and I was glad for the change.

I was pouring the dirty water in the gutter when Owen suddenly came and cowered behind my legs. I looked up abruptly and frowned when I saw it was Meeran. He didn't look happy. Then again, the man never usually did.

I straightened as he crossed his arms.

"Where were ya this morning Hawke?" He asked, his eyes narrowed. I suddenly felt vulnerable without my armor, standing in the simple clothing I had worn to sleep. Those eyes, so like my uncle Gamlen's, flickered to the mabari hiding behind my legs.

"Hardly your concern." I said coolly, shifting to shield Owen from view. "Surely that is not what brought the leader of the Red Iron out here?"

Meeran spat and I looked on with vague disgust as he started to speak again.

"That mongrel brother o' yours-"

"Don't speak of him like that." I warned.

"You forget I paid you way inta the city." He snapped back. "That bastard was seen by tha Carta and he let those damn flichers take our money!"

Bile rose in my throat at hearing my brother called that. I waited, my anger rising with each fleeting word and making the magic in my blood boil.

"You think you are high and mighty but your family is nothing but a bunch of worthless snakes – your uncle and your mother and that fatherless idiot you call a brother!"

"Enough." I said. The word was harsh as I tried not to snarl. The scar under the bandages sent a thrill of pain down my spine as I twitched my fingers unconsciously.

"And you have the gall to order me around? You're nothing more than another bitch in the family!"

I was about to move forward when Owen leaped from behind my legs and snarled at Meeran, the short fur on his spike standing as tall as it could get. His ears were pressed flat against his head and his lips pulled back to reveal long teeth.

Meeran scoffed at my mabari and I tensed.

"A pathetic scrap of fur. You should have thrown him on the streets instead of becoming a soft hearted b-" His words cut off in surprise as Owen threw himself at Meeran and sank his teeth into one of Meeran's arms.

"You mangy stupid-" Meeran shouted, his words degenerating into a stream of profanities and I saw his hand reach for a knife. I quickly took Owen and grabbed the wrist holding the knife. Owen squirmed from my arms and I let him jump down.

"You and I both know that you can't afford to lose my help. Not when you're so short on hands." I said softly, the air falling a few degrees. "You just insulted my family in every possible way. You can have nothing more to say."

"You think you can-" He started to snarl.

"I would not finish that sentence if I were you." I said coldly. I could see he felt the temperature drop and he was becoming more nervous.

I dropped his wrist and stepped back when he fell silent.

"If we understand each other…" I began and he glowered at me before turning around. I waited until he was out of hearing distance before I sighed and covered my eye. Only two more months until this nightmare with Meeran was over. A soft touch on my leg made me move my hand to look down. Owen put his paw on my leg and whined softly, his brow furrowed again.

"No you silly thing. You didn't do anything wrong." I whispered and picked him up, stroking his back. He licked my cheek and the tension in my shoulders melted a little bit.

I put him down and picked up the basin, walking back towards the house. I opened the door and set the basin just inside and went to retrieve my armor when Carver burst through the door. I turned around, surprised, as Owen took refuge behind some crates.

"Carver?" Mother asked, appearing from the curtain separating Gamlen's room from the kitchen.

"What is it?" I asked but he wouldn't meet my eyes. He simply brushed past me into the bedroom. I followed him silently as he lay down on the bed.

I had seen him do this before as a child. He would seek solace in his room if he had realized he was wrong about something and hadn't wanted to apologize. I knew bothering him would only intensify his stubbornness so I quietly started picking through my armor pile. I had completely forgotten that Carver had not met Owen.

The mabari puppy skidded into the room and crashed into a nearby crate. Carver looked up, a blaze of anger in his blue eyes that quickly turned to surprise.

"Logan." He asked and I looked up, trying not to smile. "Is that a-"

"Mabari puppy, yes." I said and he sat up slowly as I detangled the confused creature from the moth eaten linens. "This is Owen."

Carver sat down slowly on the floor and offered his hand.

"Here boy." He called softly and I glanced at Mother who was looking on. Her eyes shone with relief as Owen strode over and plunked himself right in front of my brother. When Carver tried to pet him, he pulled away with a frustrated look and stuck his nose into Carver's hands.

"I think he thinks you have food on you." I said with a small chuckle. "Here."

I threw him a dried strip and he caught it easily, feeding the demanding rascal.

"Oh I can't wait till I see Gamlen's face when he figures out we got a dog." Carver said with a grin as he played with Owen.

The door slammed open again and Gamlen's incoherent shouting rung through the house. Carver and Mother both looked at me and I sighed.

"I guess I'll tell him."


	8. A Friendship in Healing

Gamlen, as expected, did not take the news well. He threatened several times to reveal me as an apostate in his drunken rage. He insulted all of us – until Owen bit him on the ankle and tugged. The puppy was weak for malnutrition but big enough to topple a drunken Gamlen. I had never heard Carver laugh since Bethany's death.

Luckily for all of us, Gamlen passed out right there on the floor. Mother suggested we leave him and we did just that. It was around mid afternoon at this point and time for Carver and I to get back to Meeran. It infuriated me that I had to go back to that awful man after everything he had said but I had no other choice.

I was surprised to see Carver waiting outside though. For many months, he had either left before or after me. He never waited. I said nothing about this odd behavior and turned to walk to the Docks. A flash of gratitude went across his face when I didn't pry. We only got to the edge of the marketplace when a frantic bark caught my attention. I looked around to see Owen squeezing out between the crowd and Leandra following behind.

"Owen!" Mother said sharply and picked him up but he squirmed out of her arms and ran to me.

"Stay with Mother Owen." I said sternly as he sat in front of my feet. He looked back up at me, undeterred. "Go."

I put more force into the word. He obstinately stayed put staring at me with determined brown eyes.

"I don't he would stay home even if you told him so." Mother observed.

"He's still too weak to go with me." I said. "He would only get hurt in this condition."

"He makes up in spirit." Carver interrupted. "Come on sister – surely you are strong enough to protect a simple puppy?"

Carver was baiting me and I was not falling for it.

"Go home Owen." I repeated. The thing was a stubborn as my brother beside me as he pricked his ears and straightened his shoulders. I stared into his amber eyes for a long moment, neither of us giving up before I sighed. I did not need another stubborn and reckless companion for this. Owen seemed to know I had given in and his tail thumped against the ground.

Mother's brow furrowed disapprovingly.

"There's nothing I can do. I won't force him to stay if he doesn't want to." I said.

"You had better bring him back safe Logan." Mother warned and I bowed my head mutely in acceptance.

"Come Owen." I said and he stayed right on my heels as we trailed through the marketplace towards the Docks.

The mercenaries jeered and laughed as I passed up the steps, Owen doing his best to keep up. I ignored them while my brother seethed beside me. His glowers only fueled their scornful calls. Even Meeran had a mocking expression on his face as I came to stand before him.

"An now you bring both mongrels with ya?" He ridiculed and I just let it pass as if it were no more than a breeze. He was trying to rile me into action and I was not going to give him the satisfaction. No doubt his pride was bruised from our last encounter. Meeran seemed to remember Owen well enough and aimed a kick at the creature, which I casually deflected with my foot.

"If they are mongrels than you are gutter slime Meeran." I responded flatly. His eyes narrowed and Carver relaxed a little bit. "What do you want?"

"We gots a job for ya." Meeran said after a moment, a smug look crossing his face. I immediately wondered what I had gotten us into but kept my expression carefully neutral.

Carver tensed up as the Red Iron drew in closer, the mercenaries watching us. I observed them out of the corner of my eye as Owen drew his ears back. Intimidation. The man was truly running out of ideas.

"And?" I asked, unimpressed.

"Southern Cartel's got some of our boys. Show em who's boss." Meeran said.

The Southern Cartel was well known for being brutal. I now understood why he felt so smug about sending us there. It had no bearing on me – he should know that by now.

"Very well." I said calmly and beckoned Carver who was almost nose to nose with a very angry looking Red Iron mercenary. Owen followed me, growing at anyone who got to close – although it was more likely to install more jeers than fear.

"We'll show him." Carver said darkly, picking up the pace. I rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't be reckless Carver." I said, pulling him back to a walk.

"And why not?" He hissed. "You don't even fight back!"

"And what would you have me do Carver?" I said pointedly. "Without him, we would not even be in the city."

"Some improvement." He growled.

"It's only two more months. Until then, be glad we are not more refugees in Darktown."

X

The job was completed easily but the recklessness of my brother and the weakness of Owen made it more difficult. I worried about my brother, of course, but Owen was a concern. He had to be at least six months old. He should be twice this size by now… and at this weight and height, he could do very little.

It was not a concern for long. Within the next month, Owen piled on weight. He became a ravenous whirlwind and I began taking him with me on hunts outside the city to work for his keep. He quickly learned to catch rabbits with incredible accuracy and track larger animals.

The availability of food and exercise worked wonders on him.

By the end of the month, Owen was up a little higher than my knee at the shoulder. His coat grew back, dully shiny and a deep rich mahogany. But his other ear remained folded over and if he wanted to, he could look very much like a puppy again. Good natured and fiercely loyal, he became my constant companion and confidant. I found him very much human in intelligence and he understood many of the things I told him. Owen also became uncomfortably adept at sensing my emotions. I had to train him not to react if he felt I was angry. It would ruin the controlled and calm front I was known for.

With his size came respect. Meeran now feared my mabari friend and when Meeran insulted my family (as he so often did these days) he would find himself on the receiving end of a very angry dog. As such, our conversations and work became less and less. To fill the empty time with something worthwhile, I began to take more and more food to those in Darktown and spend more and more time in the wild lands beyond the gates of Kirkwall.

I also taught Owen to find herbs.

I would dig up a root and show it to him. He would sniff it and look at me. If I said yes, he would find that plant. He would occasionally bring things back to me to identify. If I said no, he would drop the leaves or tubers he had and never bring them again. To ensure he didn't swallow anything extremely dangerous, I taught him first the most poisonous plants and stressed he must never bring them to me. Owen got the message very strongly and avoided them.

He became a very reliable assistant and I quickly found myself with excess meat and herbs. I made extra salves and compresses along with the food I brought daily to Darktown.

It was during my time doing so that I began to hear rumors.

There were quite a few – true or not they were interesting enough to listen to. The most prominent were the whispers of a Gray Warden come to Kirkwall. Those who spread the rumor were cautious to speak of it and there was very little else I had heard about it other than he was a healer.

Another spoke of an expedition to the Deep Roads for treasure and of course, more and more rumors about the qunari. It wasn't surprising. The dark eyed warriors had done nothing to endear themselves to the people.

From their compound they simply watched… and waited. Nearly a year had gone by and they insisted that they were waiting for their ship. Unrest was spreading through Kirkwall already – the strangeness of their gaze, unblinking, was beginning to frighten them.

It was… expected to hear those rumors.

But there was nothing that I could do for the qunari. Therefore, the healer and expedition concerned me more. The expedition brought the promise of fortune – fortune that could win back my Mother's home. A few weeks ago, Carver and I had cleared out the home of slavers – courtesy of Gamlen – he with great reluctance. Carver was unhappy with helping Leandra, saying he preferred it home. When I confronted him about it, he accused me of Bethany's death. I told him that there was nothing we could do and he relented. He wanted his own path – which I did not blame him for. The expedition could potentially bring us a fresh start that did not stink of our uncle. After all, our time with the Red Iron was drawing to a close and we would soon need work.

The healer was another matter entirely.

A Gray Warden they said, a Fereldan like them. The refugees were fiercely protective of him – I had seen hostile stares when anyone dared to ask after him. I did not begrudge them for doing so. He healed their wounded and sick for no money. As such, I was hesitant to ask after him but I did so discreetly.

It may have been a mistake.

I had been attending to a woman with an infected arm when a gang of refugees came forward.

"We heard you've been asking about the healer." The head one growled and Owen stepped in front of me threateningly.

I ignored them for a moment, tying up the woman's arm before looking at them. They appeared put off by the scars on my face as I got to my feet.

"Rewrap your arm with this salve every two days." I said to her and she nodded gratefully.

"Be kind to her – she has been good to us." The woman said to the gang leader, who appeared shocked by this. The woman looked over her shoulder and waved, which I returned.

"What is it?" I asked them, crossing my arms.

The men looked at each other, a few soft murmurs being exchanged. I waited patiently, scratching Owen's head until they turned to me.

"You have been giving medicine out for free." The head man said, indicating the small leather sack Owen wore over his shoulders, containing the salves, compresses, tinctures and poultices I had made earlier.

"What of it?" I said calmly.

"Would you mind… giving the rest to us?" He asked.

"For the healer?" I inquired.

They looked at each other warily.

"Yes."

I looked at each of them in turn, thinking. They did not trust me obviously enough but I would like to meet this healer of theirs – if only to aid him. Kirwaller or not now, my kin were Ferelden and if there was a way to help them, I would.

"Only if you take me to him. Some of these mixtures are my own, if used incorrectly they could do more harm than good." I said, explaining to some extent the reason why.

Their hands began to reach for their weapons and I held my hands out.

"Peace." I said softly. "I mean no harm. If it will set your minds at ease, you can stay with me the entire time and if you deem me too much of a threat, do as you will."

They again conferred when the head man seemed to notice something.

"You have an accent. Are you Fereldan?"

I bowed my head in assent.

"Yes. I hailed from Lothering. I suppose it has gotten soft over the year." I replied and they seemed to be reassured by this fact.

"Very well then, we accept your offer Logan Hawke."

"I see you know my name." I said, stooping to pick up a basket.

"I had heard rumors of a one eyed woman among the Red Iron. Your saying that you were from Lothering confirmed it." The head man said and led the way, the rest of the group flanking my sides. "Had you been armed I would have been more suspicious. You have quite the reputation."

"I would not harm my kinsmen unless it was self defense." I said.

He fell silent as I followed along the twisting roads of Darktown, Owen padding silently at my heels. We went further and further in, to a corner rarely visited by patrols. A good place for those who are hiding. As we approached a double wooden door lighted by a lantern, a small feeling of restlessness lapped at my limbs. It was a familiar feeling and I began to understand why he was so protected.

"We will enter with you." The man said and I nodded, striding forward and opening the door. A soft blue light reached me.

Inside, a robed man stood over a young boy, his palms glowing. A mage. The feeling I had earlier ensured I was not surprised. It always came when another with the gift was within reach. I waited quietly by the door, watching.

His eyes were closed in concentration so I could not see the color of his eyes but he had wheat colored hair, tied back slightly. A fine stubble covered his jaw and for a mage, he was well built. Many were limber and lean – not very well suited for more physical work. This mage had obviously done so. He was handsome enough but that was not interesting to me. The healing was.

His hands moved lightly over the boys chest – a lung issue, from the color of the boys face – blue with magic. And then in an instant, he pulled back and the boy began to breathe easy. The man turned away sharply and a twinge of pain shot through my eye when he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He grabbed his staff then and turned around, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"I have made this a sanctum of healing! Why do you threaten it?!" He demanded.

The head man was about to step forward when I did.

"Be at peace. I am not here to spy for the Templers or search for rewards or trouble. I am here only to help." I said quietly. "I am unarmed and bear only medicines."

"And how can I trust you?"

I met his eyes. They were light brown but something behind them made my uneasy. It felt like… it felt like the Fade, this feeling. I could easily gain his trust by admitting my powers but this uneasiness made me wary of doing so.

"You may trust me or not. That is your choice." I said, holding his gaze.

He searched my face for a moment before relaxed slightly. The tension in the room eased and Owen let up his defensive position.

"I have heard of you." He said, his voice civil but still wary. "You are Logan Hawke. They say you bring food and medicine to those who need it. They say you're Fereldan."

"I have heard of you as well, although I cannot return the favor of your name." I said.

"I am Anders."

"A pleasure to meet you Anders." I replied, offering my hand. He glanced at me in surprise. I would feel the same if a normal person so callously offered a truce to an obvious apostate. He hid it well and shook my hand.

In that instant, a shock of rage rushed through my veins. It took all of my control not to show my surprise in any way as a burst of pain from my scar followed after. It also took a great deal not to drop his hand like he had burned me. A flicker of confusion ran through Anders' eyes and I suspected he had a suspicion of what I was.

He turned to the other Fereldans watching.

"It will be alright I believe." He told them and they nodded, relief evident on their faces. He turned to the boy while I called Owen over. I absently checked through the medicines while contemplating what had just transpired. That rage… and the Fade connected? A demon? But he did not seem… an abomination. Perhaps it was just a fluke.

"May I speak to you?" Anders asked, having left the boy to rest and I looked up at him from my spot. I stood up and brushed my pants off.

"Of course."

I followed him to a secluded corner of the room. He looked to be thinking deeply as well, something very much like surprise and doubt in his eyes. There was no question – he had certainly guessed. But with another apostate, my secret would surely be safe.

"I think you know what I am going to ask." Anders said quietly.

"Yes, I know." I said. "And the answer to your question is I am."

His breath came out slowly in astonishment as I showed him a small flame to prove my magic.

"And an apostate?" He said, amazed.

"I could ask much the same." I answered. "I would have said something earlier but to have revealed it, even to Fereldans, would have been dangerous."

"I understand of course." Anders said. The parents called Anders over then and he looked at me, questions in his eyes before going to attend to them. I returned to Owen to collect the supplies I had, setting them on a nearby crate carefully and checking what remained.

When Anders returned, I was checking lids and stoppers to make sure the contents would remain good.

"How is he?" I asked softly, looking at the boy.

"He will be alright. He just needs rest. His parents have left him in my care for now." Anders said and reached for a bottle. "May I?"

"I did mean to give them to you in the first place." I reminded him and to my surprise, he chuckled. He examined the bottles and flasks as I helped him to put them away. We talked quietly so not to disturb the boy. Now that we were over our initial caution – perhaps he was – we managed a friendly conversation.

"A lot of these herbs are hard to find… Where did you come by them?" Anders asked, looking at a particularly hard to find herb tincture made from narrowleafed coneflower and pestilence wort.

"Owen is quite good at finding them in the forest outside of Kirkwall." I said, inclining my head to the Mabari resting in the room. His ears pricked at his name and his tail wagged once.

"I see." Anders said, not looking entirely pleased.

"I take it you are not a fan of dogs." I concluded, putting the rest of it away.

"I'm more of a cat person." He said, sitting down on a nearby crate. I leaned against the wall.

"I'm surprised the Wardens let you keep a cat."

"They didn't." He said, his eyes flashing angrily. "Poor Ser Pounce-a-lot. He didn't deserve that."

"Ser Pounce-a-lot?" I inquired, unable to help a small smile. Anders smiled slightly in return.

"A gift from a friend." He clarified. "Bravest creature I've ever met. A grenlock nearly cut him in half once and he just swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood too!"

I couldn't help the smile of the thought of it.

"He sounds like a courageous animal. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet him." I replied and Anders sighed. We were quiet for a moment. I had a suspicion he would ask me what he would.

"How are you not in the Circle?"

I was quiet and he didn't urge me. He just waited in silence.

"A difficult question for a first meeting." I replied finally.

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't expect you to tell me now." Anders apologized.

"I don't mind." I said softly. "I am curious about the same thing. Especially here in Kirkwall, where the Templars are so… fervent… in their searches."

He snorted bitterly at my mild description.

"Hardly. It's barbaric what they're doing. Mages deserve their freedom."

The implication of that simple sentence 'mages deserve their freedom' had so many doubts and fears and hopes and dreams in it that seemed impossible to be true. I avoided the inevitable with a neutral statement.

"Brutality is not the way to prevent another Imperium from rising, if that is what you meant."

He assessed me with contemplative eyes.

"That's not usually the answer I get."

I was quiet for a moment.

"My father was an apostate." I finally said. "I would have given anything to keep my family as it was – all of us – together. I understand."

"Would have…? Oh –" Understanding dawned on him. "I'm sorry."

"He died in the darkspawn attack." I clarified. "In Lothering."

"I had heard…" Anders said and we sat in a comfortable silence. The hour was getting late, as Darktown became even darker.

"I must go." I eventually said stood. Owen trotted over immediately and I strapped the bags onto him while he stood patiently. "If it is not too much trouble, may I return tomorrow?"

"It's no trouble. I could use all the help I can get." Anders said with a grateful smile, walking with me to the door. I bowed my head in thanks.

"Good to meet you Logan."

"And you Anders."


	9. The View from an Apostate

-Anders-

In all my years as a Warden and a mage, I have never met a woman quite like Logan Hawke.

I was wary at first. I'm a Feraldan Warden and apostate – there is really no cause at all to be wary right? The refugees who had taken to protecting me brought her to the clinic.

She was a taller woman or maybe it was because she simply stood confidently. She was dressed simply in an undyed linen shirt and breeches – surprisingly, she carried no weapons. Her little longer than shoulder length black hair was bound loosely to one side but it was the face that always drew my attention. Her right eye was swathed in ragged bandages, completely hidden. Scars radiated from the right – one dipped down through the corner of her lip and trailed down her chin and a thick red band of scar tissue ran over the bridge of her nose. Smaller ones edged the bandages. She met my eyes calmly and I wondered why she wasn't saying anything.

She had caught me in the middle of healing. Most people ran screaming from apostates. Instead she just seemed to take it in stride. It unnerved me a little bit. I admit that I demanded to know what she was doing here.

"Be at peace." The one eyed woman said, her voice soft and soothing. "I am not here to spy for the Templars or cause any trouble. I am unarmed and bring only medicines."

True enough, I couldn't even see a hint of a blade under the cloth of her shirt and the basket she held had jars. The dog she brought with her sat placidly, panting, a makeshift harness strapped to his shoulders. The leather bags had small glints of glass that peeked out from under the flaps.

"And how can I trust you?"

She met my eyes, cool and composed.

"You may trust me or not, that is your choice."

The answer was straightforward. I understood that if I asked her to leave, she would. Although I wasn't going to just let her go now that she knew what I was. But I had heard of her too.

"I've heard of you. You are Logan Hawke."

Again she looked unsurprised that I knew her name.

"They say you bring food and medicine to those who need it. They say you're Fereldan."

She bowed her head in assent. Another Fereldan refugee with a passion for healing? Surely she couldn't be all bad. Then again, the Templars would say anything to get here.

"I cannot say I can return the favor of the name." Logan said.

"I am Anders." I introduced myself. It was common enough information.

"A pleasure to meet you Anders." She said and held a hand out. I was surprised to the say the least. She was offering a handshake to an apostate? I mentally shrugged off my shock and reached out to take her hand. A small tingle ran up and down my fingertips and I struggled with the massive surprise.

Another apostate? There could be no mistake – she had magic! A flicker of recognition went through her blue eye before vanishing under the cool exterior. We dropped hands and I heard the boy stir. I went to his side and Logan dropped to her knees beside her dog, ruffling through the jars.

"It will be alright, I think." I said to the Fereldan refugees watching. They nodded, looking relieved. They seemed to like Logan too. They turned and left, leaving us to our business.

Hundreds of questions were buzzing through my mind. None of the rumors I had heard mentioned that she had magic. She must have been hiding it – neglecting to use it in order to stay hidden. I didn't blame her for doing it. But Fereldan? She was either in the circle or had completely avoided it altogether. How did she get away from the Templars all this time? I ran my hand over the boys chest again, letting magic soothe the coughs again.

When the boy settled, I turned to Logan again.

"May I speak to you?" I asked, hardly able to contain how badly I wanted to know.

She nodded and got to her feet, dusting off her pants. I led her to a more secluded part of the clinic although it was empty except for the boy. Magic was not something be flaunted and if she wanted to keep it a secret, I respected her wishes.

"I think you know what I'm going to ask." I said.

In response she held her hand out. My fingers tingled in response to the small blue flame she summoned to her fingertip. It flickered for a moment, holding the silence before she released it.

"And an apostate?" I breathed.

"I could ask the same." She said with the smallest hint of a smile. "I would have said something earlier but to reveal it, even to Feraldens would have been dangerous."

"I understand of course." I said. I really did.

Then the parents came in and called me over. I lingered for a moment, wanted to ask more but when Logan gave me a small tilt of her head I was assured she wasn't going anywhere. I returned to the boy. I watched her check lids out of the corner of my eye. Once I reassured the parents that the boy would be alright, they left hesitantly.

"Will he be alright?" Logan asked me softly, her eyes straying to the young man on the table.

"He'll be fine with some rest." I murmured back and then raised an eyebrow. These poultices had some rare herbs. "May I?"

"I did mean to give you them in the first place." She said it seriously but it struck me as funny anyway. I couldn't resist a chuckle. She gave me another of those almost smiles.

Logan was interesting and it was hard to come by company that didn't flinch at my being a mage. Justice was actually quiet about this. I examined one of the tinctures and grimaced at the smell. Smells bad but works very well. These were hard to find herbs.

"Where did you find these?" I asked, curious.

"Owen is quite good at finding them outside in the forests of Kirkwall." She replied, looking at her dog. The large creature wagged its strange half length tail. He wasn't full Mabari and he looked downright odd with that floppy ear.

"I see."

"I take it you are not a fan of dogs?" She asked and there was a hint of amusement in her tone. I grinned in response – I couldn't believe she picked up on that so quickly.

"I'm more of a cat person." I said, sliding the rest of what she brought onto a barrel and sitting down on a crate. She leaned against the wall, her expression polite but interested.

"I'm surprised the Wardens let you keep a cat." She said, not looking at all surprised anyway. It was hard to get her to express something else.

"They didn't." I said blandly. I missed that cat. "Poor Ser-Pounce-Lot. He didn't deserve that."

Some of the pain was dampened by the amused smile tugging on my new friends lips.

"Ser Pounce-a-lot?" She asked, a full – if not small – smile now.

"A gift from a friend." I said, remembering the red haired elf who gave it to me and then encouraged my naming sense with a pang. She was a lot of fun and I missed her. "Bravest creature I ever met – swatted a grenlock once. Drew blood too!"

"Sounds like a courageous creature. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to meet him." She said sincerely. I sighed. I did miss that cat something fierce.

There was a pause in the conversation and the question I had been itching to ask spilled out.

"How are you not in the Circle?"

When she looked down, I was afraid I had offended her or brought back –some painful memories. I was about to apologize when she spoke again.

"That is a difficult question for a first meeting." She observed quietly.

Now I did apologize. Obviously it had not been easy. Being a mage was not easy.

"I could ask you the same thing." Logan said, crossing her arms and looking at Owen. "Especially here where the Templars are so – fervent – in their searches."

I snorted. She was being polite – there was no way to mistake them being fervent for brutality. She was carefully neutral about it and it bothered me a little bit.

And Justice.

"Hardy. It's barbaric what they're doing. Mages deserve their freedom."

It had been the one driving statement for years. Surely she must feel the same way – being hunted and hated just for being what she was.

But instead of agreeing she made a roundabout answer. Maybe she just didn't trust me yet.

"Brutality is not the way to prevent another Imperium from rising, if that's what you mean."

It was not what I hoped for but a small victory nonetheless.

"That's not usually the answer I get."

Usually the answer I get is are you mad? You possessed? It's like 'mages' and 'freedom' in the same sentence makes you automatically insane.

"My father was an apostate." She said and I started a little bit in surprise. Her father too? "I would have given anything to keep my family – all of us – safe. I understand."

Her understanding made me happier than I had been in a very long while. Helping people was nice but to have someone truly understand my cause was something different entirely. I wondered if I told her of Justice, would she even understand then?

Call me selfish, but I didn't want to. Not yet.

"Would have?" I repeated and then realized. "Oh – I'm sorry."

Her father had died but from what? Justice stirred again and I did my best to force him out of my mind.

"In Lothering." She said. I remembered Lothering. A ruin when I saw it. I wondered how it had been before. "When the darkspawn attacked four years before."

"I had heard…" It was all I could say when she looked outside. Darktown was getting darker. Night had already begun to approach.

"I should go." She said – but she looked a little reluctant to leave. It was good to have a friend, I realized. "If it is not too much trouble may I return tomorrow?"

It was silly she should ask that. The clinic was always understaffed and I would have more opportunity to ask her about how she got away.

"It's no trouble." I assured her with a grateful smile. She returned it and gathered up her things, whistling to Owen. He trotted over to her and she adjusted his packs before waving.

"Good to meet you Anders." Logan said.

"And you Logan."


	10. A Rekindling of Family

True to my word, I returned the next day with more supplies. I had run short of bottles however – with all my money devoted towards buying my mother's home back, I didn't have the coin to purchase more. Instead I brought dried herbs and a basket of food. The guards – cleverly disguised as beggars – let me pass without so much as a word.

The clinic was crowded this morning. I quickly set down my bundles and went to help. I took care of the smaller things – cuts, infections and small illnesses, things that Anders did not need to heal. Between the two of us, the work went by quickly.

I tightened bandages on a child's arm as Owen drew his attention away from the pain. The dog rolled over and walked on his back legs – the boy even laughed a little bit, even though I was pulling linen across an infected area.

"You're done." I said, dropping my hands back to my lap.

"Didya teach the doggie to do that?" The boy asked in a rough lower city cant.

"No, he's just silly." I replied with a small smile and got to my feet. I ruffled his hair gently. "Now come back if that gets any worse alright?"

"Yes m'am. Thanks!" He chirped and with a pet to Owen, went along his way.

"You are good with children." Anders said and I looked up at him. He was cleaning his hands in a bucket of water someone had put there. "Do you have any of your own?"

"Oh no, no. My life is no good for a child." I replied and Anders gave me a sad smile.

"And not because I'm a mage. Because I'm a mercenary." I explained. "I have… a younger brother."

"Ah. And is he as charming as you?"

I couldn't help it. The very idea of Carver as charming startled a laugh out of me.

"Hardly. He has as much tact as a rock." I said, shaking my head scornfully.

Anders grinned.

"But aren't rocks tactful in the way they just sit there and listen to anything you have to say?"

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Have you done a lot of talking to rocks then?"

"You, Logan, take everything much too seriously." He replied.

"If I don't, who will?" I asked.

"That hurts you know."

"I'm sure you'll survive." I said dryly.

I turned away and picked up the basket by Owen. There was a small lunch in there – I had shared the rest of the food with the refugees.

"I figured you might like something to eat." I said and placed the basket on the table. I took an apple for myself and leaned against another table.

"Thank you." Anders said, startled by the gesture. I bowed my head slightly, in acceptance. We ate in comfortable silence. It was nice… to have a friend. Family was my life but they do get wearing after a time.

"Logan!"

_Speak of Carver and he shall appear_, I thought distastefully.

I threw Anders a glance to let him know I knew the person calling my name. I heard arguing outside and sighed. Leave it to my brother to make a fuss.

Owen bounded out the doors and I followed more sedately as the Mabari bowled through the guards to leap on Carver. He grunted and fell backwards, an eighty pound dog on his lap.

"It's alright. He is my brother, I will handle him." I told the guards calmly and reached down to help Carver to his feet. He glared at my hand and I just called Owen away so he could get up himself. Our short period of friendship had ended apparently.

"What are you doing here Carver?" I asked calmly.

"Meeran sent me to find you. You were gone all day yesterday and most of today." Carver said suspiciously. "Where have you been?"

Carver being suspicious was one of the lesser things I would expect from him. I wasn't particularly surprised though.

"Helping the refugees. I've had enough herbs and dried meats to do so."

Carver looked over my shoulder and his eyes narrowed. I looked back over at Anders who raised one eyebrow, mild surprise showing on his face. Carver and I did look a lot alike I supposed – same raven wing hair, same blue eyes.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what are you doing here with my sister?" Carver said angrily. I held a placating hand out with a sigh. Now he chooses to get defensive.

"Carver, my friend Anders." I said, gesturing to the blond man who stood about a half ahead taller than my younger brother. "Anders, my younger brother - Carver Hawke."

"A pleasure." Anders said his eyes wary.

With the way Carver glared back, I didn't blame Anders one bit. Anders glanced at me with amusement. I was assuming he was now understanding what I said earlier. I shook my head very slightly as if to agree. Carver watched the whole exchange, his blue eyes smoldering.

"Meeran wants us now Logan." Carver snapped.

"I know." I said and turned back into the clinic. Owen followed behind Carver and Anders, glancing back and forth in confusion. He didn't seem to understand why his two human friends didn't get along. Personally, I didn't really either. Carver didn't much like anyone.

I made to start packing up things and Anders came to help. Carver stiffened. I ignored him and continued stacking what remaining items I had and tucking extra leather and burlap sacks into the leather packs across Owen's shoulders. When Anders made to hand me the basket I shook my head.

"Keep it – you'll need the energy helping all of these people." I said.

"Thank you again." Anders said setting it back down. "By the way who is this Meeran?"

"Gutter slime." Carver and I said at the exact same time. My brother looked at me in surprise and I raised an eyebrow back. Anders laughed and I just shook my head. It happened sometimes – my siblings and I had been nearly inseparable when we were young, finishing each others sentences and adding on to each other's so often it nearly drove Mother and Father crazy. We had grown apart since Bethany's death but some things don't change.

"You're calling the Red Iron leader gutter slime?" Anders said, obviously having known who he was the whole time. Carver looked irritated but I had an inkling he knew. He was an apostate living in a templar infested city – it paid to know who was who.

"Yes I am." I said simply.

"Then why do you still work for him?"

"Because we have to." Carver growled. Anders looked at me questioningly and I simply shrugged a bit.

"A story for another time perhaps." I said.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Anders asked.

"If Meeran grows too weary of me today, than most likely." I replied my tone dry again, and Carver huffed. Anders gave me a small grateful smile.

"Hurry up Logan." Carver said.

Anders waved, which I returned and I followed my brother. He barely had enough sense to wait until we were out of earshot to start arguing with me.

"I don't like him."

"Of course you don't Carver." I said calmly, knowing he didn't like any of the people I considered friends.

My calmness only served to irritate him more, as usual.

"He's some random person you just met yesterday and decided to be friends with?" Carver hissed as I tugged on the pulley back to Lowtown.

"Anders is a Fereldan like us, helping Fereldan's like us who weren't quite as fortunate." I said, his irritation never sparking my own.

"As if Gamlen is fortunate." He growled under his breath. I didn't say anything – in truth we were fortunate to have a place to live but Gamlen was anything but fortunate. Carver took my silence as an agreement and calmed down some.

"Owen, take those home please. Come find us at the Docks after." I said to my mabari and he barked before taking off through the crowd. Carver had calmed down very much – it was odd. We actually walked all the way through the marketplace before he spoke again.

"Our debt is ending Logan. What are we going to do?" He asked. I thought this might come up eventually. Even Carver isn't bull headed enough to ignore the future forever.

"I did hear an interesting rumor working in the clinic." I replied. "There is an expedition going to the Deep Roads now that they have been cleared out a bit. Hunting for treasure I suppose."

"The hardly sounds like real work sister." Carver said scathingly.

"But if we did manage to find treasure, we could buy Mother's home back."

"Maybe."

He still sounded angry about Grandfathers estate. I remembered how he told me he hated Gamlen but saw his side of the argument. How it feels to be someone else's caretaker, to live in their shadow. I knew he was referring to me. I didn't want him to feel that way – I knew that feeling had become the rift that had driven us apart these last few years. I had gained status and respect… Carver had nothing. I didn't want him gaining the status in the Red Iron – I wanted him to have his purpose, just not this one.

And I had no idea how to tell him that.

I knew what he wanted. I had caught him lurking by the fire after we gave Grandfathers will to Mother. Carver didn't want that. He didn't want Hightown. Instead he accused me of not doing things right – if I had we would be at home in Lothering and Bethany would still be alive.

It hurt more than any blade could ever cause. I told him that I would if I could. I should have done something differently – I am kept awake by nightmares blaming me for what I could have done. But there was nothing we could do now.

Carver did apologize. And he said he wanted his own path. I respect his choice – the Red Iron should not be that choice.

X

Meeran's job took us to the Gallows today. The place made me uneasy ever since landing here almost a year ago. It was always crawling with Templars and I had to watch myself even closer. It was there an elderly mage called out to us from a secluded corner of the courtyard.

"More mages." Carver said, disgusted. His distaste for being overshadowed had caused this disgust but I said nothing. "I'm going to ask the guards about their training."

Normally I would have been worried but Aveline assured me that she would not let Carver become a recruit. I believe she called my brother a tit then. It had been quite funny at the time.

"I know your faces." The mage said, studying me. I looked back at him. "You are Hawkes."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." I said. Many people knew our name now – our reputation was beginning to spread. But this man seemed to know us for something other than the Red Iron.

"I am Tobrius."

I immediately recognized the name. I had been a little girl then, only nine years old and watching my father write to a man named Tobrius.

"Yes, I found one of your letters." I said, remembering the elegant hand I had once admired compared to my hasty scrawl.

"Malcolm was a good man. He often wrote to the man I can't name. A Templar, I remember."

I was shocked. My father…. Writing to a Templar?

"A Templar? Are you certain?" I repeated, dubious.

"Yes. The man who helped Malcolm escape. A good man – 'it is best not to keep the best of us caged.' Wise."

"It is… hard to believe." I said evasively. Anders would agree with that statement but would never believe it to made by a Templar.

"Yes…. Not like these days." Tobrius said sadly. He reached into his sash and pulled out several pieces of yellowing parchment. "But better these be returned to family."

I took them gently and blinked at surprise at the name.

"Few like your father remain… even fewer like the Templar. Rest in peace Ser Maurevar Carver."

With that Tobrius walked away. My brother's name… He should see these. Perhaps then he would feel better.

X

It was after dinner that night. Mother was sitting on the far side of the room and Carver had taken his favorite spot by the fire. Owen was laying down beside him and then looked up when I walked over. I sat down by my brother who looked at me, confused.

"Here." I said and handed him the letters. He looked at me suspiciously.

"Why are you giving me these?" Carver said.

"A gift of understanding." Was all I said. Carver examined the letters, instantly recognizing the sloping handwriting.

"These are… Fathers." He said in surprise. Then he shook his head. "They were probably meant for you. Another mage could get more out of them."

He handed them back and I shuffled through and put another on top before handing them back.

"They were meant for you. Look." I said softly.

"This trinket in thanks to you… Ser Maurevar… Carver. Carver!" He exclaimed in surprise.

"Your namesake. The Templar who helped Father escape." I said quietly, leaning on my knees and watching his face.

"In thanks for helping move forward, the name shall always mean skill thoughtfully applied…" Carver murmured, his eyes lighting up in a way I had not seen since Owen first came to us.

"He… he named me to help him move forward. A Templar though?" He asked, looking up at me.

"Father thought he was worthy enough to honor." I said in reply with a small smile.

Carver was quiet then, his blue eyes flickering as he read over the letters. I waited patiently, staring absently into the flames but keenly awaiting his reaction.

"Thank you… sister." He finally said quietly. When I turned to look at him, he was looking away embarrassed. I simply smiled and turned my attention to Owen, giving him peace.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mother smiling happily for the first time in many months.

* * *

**AN:**

A short chapter I know. The next one should be long enough to make up for it - we get to meet our favorite dwarf after all!

I know I'm changing the storyline with the meetings and such but I figured they would actually meet up during the year instead of when the game takes place. The game can't explain everything in those three years otherwise it would be a very long game.

Not that I would mind.

But anyway, I hope you don't mind me changing things around.

And this is the new chapter 10 since I decided to wedge a chapter between these two.

And by god - look at all those reviews! You all are wonderful, amazing, fantastic readers and I don't know what I would do without you.

Love

~Triade


	11. A Dawn in Red

The work with Meeran was, thankfully, over. The end to our business relationship was fairly anticlimactic with only a 'you weren't worth the time'. A letter had arrived not two weeks later asking quite rudely how unemployment was. I had to scrape up all sorts of jobs but it was far better than working with him. I simply threw the letter in the fire. Carver whistled enthusiastically to that.

A small happy moment in a long line of unhappy moments, unfortunately. The city was still packed with refugees and the impoverished – work was hard enough to find without Meeran spitting on my name to all the other employers. If his reputation wasn't already badly known, then Carver and I wouldn't have work at all. In this case, his own bad nature was a blessing.

But even with our reliability (even if Carver was garnering his own moody reputation) work was scarce and Mother's house in Hightown would not stay empty forever now that the slavers were gone. The only choice left to us was the expedition into the Deep Roads but that brought another problem entirely.

There were two main groups over the Expedition – those crazy enough to want to brave the depths for the treasure – those too desperate to know better the danger, too commonly unskilled in any weapon – and those who thought it a waste of time and money. The second group was considerably larger. Either way, neither group was willing to put down money to forward the expedition. I hoped our previous experience might hire us on anyway.

I had not been expecting Bartrend. Truly, were all the leaders in this city worthless?

I had seen dwarves before – more often in Kirwall than in Lothering – and had become quite fond of Worthy, a rune crafter in the High Town markets. I had often been sent to speak with him on behalf of the Red Iron. Worthy, too, was not fond of Meeran. The others were mercenaries or part of the Coterie. Stout people and very hardy. They could tell a fake jewel from the real in an instant and their blades were of fine make. Kirkwallers said their ale was fantastic as well, but I do not drink so I couldn't attest to that.

Overall, a very strong people. But everyone has their downsides. Bartrand was as stubborn as my brother and a little more rude.

"But you're going into the Deep Roads! You'll need all the-" My brother started as we stopped in the Expeditions unofficial courtyard.

"Andraste's tits human!" He snarled. "Look you and every other damn Fereldan wants in on this venture! We would be going nowhere if I hired every random human!"

"But we aren't. We have fought darkspawn before. Some of your surfacer friends have not, dwarf or no." I said, inclining my head coolly to group not far away. Kin or kind, dwarves always hire dwarves first - with or without experience.

"Look human! I'm not hiring you just so you can get a fast pass out of the slums! Go find another meal ticket!" He snapped again and stomped off. Carver was about to yell back at him, looking a little red in the cheeks himself, when I shook my head silently.

Arguing more was not going to help. It never really seemed to do anything – unless you wanted a fist to the jaw. Carver should know that particular lesson well by now.

"What are we going to do now Logan? Why didn't you say anything else?" Carver demanded. I looked around as he spoke. The operation appeared to be stuck in perpetual preparation. I had heard some whispers that Bartrand didn't have the money to get the expedition going. I supposed if we did have the money, we could get in.

But we didn't have the money it would take to get an entire expedition going.

"We'll have to find some other way." I said evasively but calmly and took several strides back towards Lowtown when a ginger haired man bumped into me. I felt the tug on my belt and knew he had taken my pouch.

_Stupid, stupid!_ I chastised myself as I sprinted after him. _Of course there are thieves in Hightown! To them this is prime territory! If only Aveline hadn't taken Owen this morning…!_

I was contemplating throwing a lightning bolt when the sharp click of a firing crossbow had me sliding to a halt, my hand touching the dagger at my side just in case. Carver narrowly avoided running into me as he stopped.

"I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pockets just by smiling at you." A dwarf stepped out of the shadows, strapping a very strange looking crossbow to his back. "But you! You don't have the style to work Hightown, let alone the Merchants Guild."

The man willingly handed over the purse to the elaborately dressed dwarf, looking ashamed. The dwarf must be well known. He did seem familiar.

"You should find a new line of work." The dwarf said and hit the man across the jaw and then yanked the arrow from the thieves' shoulder. The thief ran and the dwarf turned to us. He threw my purse to me. I caught it one handed in front of my face. The weight of the purse was still the same. No coins missing.

If there was one thing about Kirkwall I knew for certain, it was that nothing was ever free.

"Good catch." The dwarf commented, spinning the arrow in his fingers. "Varric Tethras at your service."

Ah. Varric Thethras. That name was quite popular in Darktown. Which would also make him Bartrand's brother. Younger brother.

"I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"And you would?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I would!" Varric exclaimed, sounding falsely hurt by the blunt statement. "Of course I would! See what Bartrand doesn't understand is that we need people like you. He would never admit it either – he's too proud."

Varric said it with a shrug and a sigh. I couldn't help the quick sidelong glance at my younger brother. It sounded like Varric was describing Carver – not just Bartrand. Luckily Carver missed the hidden inflection and the glance.

"And that would make you…" I trailed off.

Varric laughed.

"You Logan Hawke, are unintentionally funny." Varric said. "I am practical compared to my brother."

"Wait a minute, how do you know my sisters name?" Carver jumped in.

Of course he knew my name. Practically every informant in Darktown and Lowtown reported to Varric. I was sure he had connection in Hightown as well. And Hawke wasn't quite the trodden on name as it was when we arrived. We had our fame in the underworld.

"Hawke is not exactly an unknown name anymore – little Hawke. Besides ask your sister, she doesn't look too surprised."

"She's never look- HEY!" He began and then cut off with an indignant shout. I restrained a smile. Really, he could be so stupid sometimes.

Varric chuckled to himself as Carver fumed. I watched the whole situation, distantly amused. I could see them being good friends anyway. Carver could use someone else to argue with who didn't get offended by his sometimes ignorant speech. Someone besides his sister.

"Very well than Varric. What have you got for us?" I asked, interrupting before anything got out of hand.

"I'm glad you asked. See we don't need any more hirelings for this mission. We need a partner."

"And you think Bartrand would take us on as partners?" I asked.

"Fifty sovereigns and he couldn't refuse. Well not with me to vouch for you."

"Fifty sovereigns is asking for quite a bit." I observed. That was putting it mildly. Fifty sovereigns was almost more than I had earned in my entire year working for Meeran. And it had taken a year to earn that much money. A year we didn't have.

"Look Hawke, it seems like a lot of money but there is a lot of jobs out there if you look for them. I can help get you in contact with some people."

"Why not just do all of this yourself? Why ask us?" Carver demanded. I had been wondering when he would snap again.

"Getting the information is the easy part. It's the darkspawn that worry me." Varric reminded him. "What do you say Hawke? Do we have a deal?"

"We could earn so much money. This was your idea sister." Carver said reluctantly. "I'm with you."

"You could earn many times fifty sovereigns. You could have enough capital to set you up for life." Varric added in.

It was true. The treasure in the Deep Roads… it could be anything. Even fifty sovereigns wouldn't help much for Mother's home.

"Very well Varric. We have a deal." I said, shaking his hand. He grinned.

"Right – come see me at the Hanged Man later." He paused and then said, "You know what, why don't we just head over there now? Looks like Junior here could use a drink."

"If you're buying." Carver said, all other offenses forgotten in the mentions of a free drink.

"That depends. Think you can beat me at a game of cards?"

"You're on Dwarf." Carver said.

I trailed behind them as they walked towards Lowtown, friendly conversation splattered by bursts of arguments. Carver could use a friend – even if it was this much too smooth dwarf. I suppose he was the only way into the expedition at this point no matter how smooth he was.

"Lighten up Hawke!" Varric called over his shoulder and I looked up, my hand leaving my chin where I had put it while I was thinking.

"Logan." I said absently, striding past them.

"All right Logan. Maybe I need to buy you a few drinks too."

"Don't bother. Sister doesn't drink." Carver interrupted. Varric actually stopped in his tracks.

"Doesn't drink? Doesn't drink?! A beautiful woman like you? No, that just won't do."

"Flattered Varric. But no thank you." I said dryly.

"Come on."

I ignored him. Varric sighed dramatically.

"Have it your way Hawke." He said pulling open the tavern door with flourish. I just strode in, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. The bar, was of course, packed besides the fact that the ale tasted like donkey piss. A couple of people called out my name and I gave a small wave. A few of those made scornful expressions. Old mercenaries and foes did not give up their grudges easily.

"One for this man here!" Varric called out and a beer was promptly brought. A frequenter then. I looked at Varric questioningly.

"You won't drink?" I inquired curiously.

"Oh I will. I'd just like to speak somewhere with a little less… rivals." He said, inclining his head at the men giving me the stink eye. I nodded my head mutely and gestured for him to lead the way. I glanced back at Carver, who was flirting (rather unsuccessfully, I might add) with a barkeep and enjoying his drink. He only grinned at me when I looked back and I just tilted my head slightly, giving him a hard look that was plainly clear: stay out of trouble.

With that I followed Varric up the stairs to the rooms, which were usually just as filthy as the bar. Instead Varric opened a room to very spacious room, comfortable and fit for a dwarf. So he lived here then.

"So tell me Hawke, why were those men hoping to light you on fire with their eyes?" Varric asked cordially, gesturing for me to take a seat. I took it with a quiet thank you.

"I would assume you already know." I said, leaning back in the chair.

"Maybe. But I want to hear it anyway."

"They did not like being ordered around by a one-eyed woman, I suppose."

"That was very boring Hawke. You can't give a better story?" He scoffed, looking disappointed.

"I suppose I'm a boring person." I replied with a ghost of a smile.

Varris sighed dramatically.

"I suppose we will soon have to fix that. I have a feeling you'd loosen up some more if you had drink." He said, sliding a freshly brought tankard to me. I looked at it and shook my head.

"Again, no thank you." I said quietly. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

"If you want." He shrugged, taking a drink himself. "There was one thing I didn't mention about our deal – something else we need."

"More than the fifty sovereigns?" I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Don't worry. I'm not asking for money. What we need is a map." He said. "A map of the Deep Roads."

A map of the Deep Roads. I had a feeling it was going where it was.

"There's word of a Gray Warden in town-"

"I know him." I said flatly. Varric raised his eyebrow and grinned.

"Defensive are we?" He teased lightly. I only shook my head a little bit, silently asking him not to push the subject.

"Alright, alright. I won't pry. Do you think you can ask your friend – see if he has a map?" Varric asked, getting my point immediately.

"Of course."

"Well then Hawke, to a prosperous partnership." He said and held up his drink giving me a mischievous look. I sighed and picked up my tankard as well but took only a sip.

"It's a start." Varric grinned. I only rolled my eyes.

Later that night -

After dragging a drunken Carver home (thank Andraste I had caught him before he started a fight), I headed off to Darktown, Owen trotting my side. I slipped my hood over my head, my staff obvious on my back. I always came here during the day when it was safer. At night, thugs and gangs roamed the streets. With a scarred, large war hound and a deadly looking blade attached to my back, no one bothered me. It might have had something to do with my new reputation.

I made it safely to Anders clinic and gently knocked on the door, Owen giving a little whine. There was a thump indoors and a soft blue light filtered under the crack. Anders opened the door, his eyes wary. A friendly spark lit up as I pulled off my hood and the plasma bolt vanished from his hand.

"Hello Anders. Sorry to bother you so late." I said, looking pointedly at his messy hair. He must have been asleep, I realized, feeling a little guilty.

"No it's alright." He said hurriedly, attempting to fix his hair. Owen wagged his tail as Anders gave him a pat on the head. "What is it?"

I took a few steps to the side, uncertain.

"I don't know how to ask you this." I started. "I know you must hate the Deep Roads."

"What's this about the Deep Roads?" Anders asked, his smile fading into a frown. He opened the door for me to come in and I threw him a grateful look. I took a seat on one of the tables.

"There is an expedition. No doubt you've heard of it." I explained and he nodded his head. "In short, I need to go – and to get there, I need a map of the Deep Roads."

Anders' frown deepened. Owen nudged his hand worriedly. He absently scratched the dog's ear, deep in thought. I waited patiently, although a little anxious, I hid it well.

"I have a map." He said finally, looking unhappy about it. "But I need a favor in return. I didn't want to ask this of you but I find myself with little other choice."

"What is it?"

"I have a friend in the Circle – here in Kirkwall." He began hesitantly, pacing. I watched him warily. "His name is Karl. I have arranged to get him away from here."

"And you need my help?" I guessed.

"That's the problem. He is to meet me at the Chantry later tonight but… I think it could be a trap." Anders said with finality.

I frowned slightly. He watched me anxiously as I thought. If that was true and this was a trap… That meant Templars. A good deal of them to want to catch an apostate. It could very well be that I would have to use magic in front of them – and then where would my family be if they carted me off the Circle? I could not do that but… Neither could I turn down Anders' plea for help. Perhaps Varric would help since Carver was too drunk to walk?

"Of course I will help." I agreed and he gave a sigh of relief. "I have… a friend who might be willing to help as well."

"And who would this be?" He asked cautiously.

"A dwarf. Named Varric Tetheras."

"The storyteller?" Anders said incredulously.

"Ah. Now I see why he kept asking me about my adventures." I said dryly, mildly surprised.

Anders studied me for a long moment. I met his eyes curiously.

"If you trust him, then I trust your judgment."

I was touched. Truly. Then again, I was a fellow apostate…. And sometimes I didn't even trust my own judgment. Not after Bethany. But that had been an ogre – I supposed I did have a good sense of people. Varric didn't seem the type to sell one out to the Templars – especially if they had a good story to tell. Anders is, or had been, a Gray Warden and is still an apostate. Surely Varric would see the worth?

Yes I decided. Varric would help and he was far too clever to let an opportunity slip through his fingers. Not one like this.

"He is trustworthy enough." I said, standing up. "Where shall we meet you?"

"By the Chantry in two hours time." He said and I nodded, flipping my hood up to turn to go. "Logan!"

I paused.

"Thank you."

I looked back at him. He seemed unnerved by my scrutiny. Then I smiled a little bit.

"Anders – even if you weren't already my friend, I would still help map or no."

He returned the smile and I bowed my head, returning to the Hanged Man.

"So your friend is meeting at the Chantry to break his friend out of the Circle, which may or may not be a trap?" Varric whispered quietly as we walked through Hightown. Owen was ever present as well.

"That's about it, yes." I replied.

"And here I thought you were boring." He said with a chuckle, shaking his head.

"With Logan, you never get bored."

Anders stepped out from the shadows by the Chantry. He was wearing a hood as well. I shook my head, disbelieving. Was everyone out to get me today?

"Nice to meet you Blondie." Varric said, offering a hand. "Hawke here asked that me and Bianca come help you out – although I imagine you must already know that."

"Who's Bianca?" Anders asked, shaking it. He glanced at me and I shrugged. I didn't know who that was either.

"Why this lovely lady here is Bianca!" Varric exclaimed quietly, pulling out his crossbow.

I couldn't help it – I stared, dumbfounded. Do people actually name their weapons? Apparently so, I revised as Varric gave his crossbow a pat.

"Why 'Bianca'?" I asked, bemused.

"Now I can't tell you that can I? It would ruin the mystery!" Varric replied.

"Sh!" Anders hushed and I immediately stepped back against the cool stone of the Chantry. Varric followed still looking amused but watchful. Owen put his ears up, pressing his belly against the ground. The sounds of heavily armored steps was muffled by the wall. There were Templars inside.

"We have to hurry." Anders said. I nodded and stepped forward, readjusting the worn leather guard of my staff more securely in my hand. Anders had his own staff out and Varric, Bianca. I nodded at Owen and he stepped quietly alongside me in a crouch. I slid the door gently open and cursed the sounds our feet made on the stone.

The sounds became muted as we crossed onto the rich carpets, the Chantry smelling strongly of incense and candle smoke. I kept a cautious look out as we moved up the stairs to where the books were kept. Things were alarmingly quiet now. Even in all of their bulky, over polished armor I could not see any Templar. But I felt their eyes and it made every hair on the back of my neck stand up. The energy roiling off Anders told me he felt the same way. The skin across his knuckles was white with how tight he clenched his staff in his hands. I unconsciously felt my other hand wander to the belt of my trousers, where a dagger laid flat against my skin as the other hand compensated to the weight of the staff. Owen was tense, his eyes flickering back and forth. The way his nose twitched told me he knew where the Templar's were hiding – I imagined the salty tang of sweat that gave them away – but the mabari waited for my command, the hairs on his spine standing as straight as the ones on my neck.

This was chaos waiting to happen.

I made the last few steps around the corner when Anders ran past me. I tensed up immediately but relaxed when Anders called Karl's name.

"I knew you would come Anders. You can be so predictable." Karl's voice was smooth. Much too quiet without the inflections of emotion… Dread settled in the bottom of my stomach like a heavy stone.

"Karl – why are you speaking-"

Anders' voice trailed off and his eyes filled with horror. The stamp of the Tranquil was burned into the flesh of his forehead. Even the sight of it burned me, the very thought of living without magic – no matter how troublesome it could be – was more painful than any flame.

"No." Anders said. The sound of scraping armor turned me around to face a squadron of Templars, their weapons drawn. I turned slightly so my left arm was hidden behind my body, my fingers tight around the hilt of the knife. I brandished my staff in front of me, standing steady to block Anders and his friend from the approaching line. Owen snarled now, his lips pulled back over long white teeth.

"I was too rebellious. They knew I had to… be made an example of."

The words made my lips pull into a tight line. Yes, the Templars were brutal at times. But this was one of those cases that sent a chill down my spine. Bianca made a chinking noise as Varric loaded an arrow, looking a little off put by the situation as well.

"The Templars will teach you how to control your powers Anders. This is him, the apostate." The mage said – completely selling out his friend without a notion of what he was doing.

The scorching burn of rage fixed me to the floor as the sharp ozone smell of the Fade snapped into being. The magic in my blood hummed in response, sending my pulse hammering in my veins. I whipped my head around for the source, alarmed and horrified by the astounding presence of the Fade almost as strong as any dream.

"NO!" Anders roared, his eyes turning blue. Black and blue flames surrounded him as his voice boomed through the empty church, setting my ears ringing. "YOU WILL NEVER TAKE ANOTHER MAGE AS YOU HAVE TAKEN HIM!"

Heat bombarded my skin as a fireball flew past my face to explode in front of the Templars, taken off guard by his sudden change of heart, and the room burst into battle.

There was no possible way to contain my magic with the amount of energy Anders was giving off. I felt like it would jump through my skin at any moment if I didn't cast. The scar under the bandage began to ache and sting as I drew on my magic for practically the first time in a year. Lightening - having always been my element of choice – crackled and spat around my fingertips.

If the Templars were surprised by this other unexpected change, they didn't stand a chance of showing it. I released the bolt and it slammed into the man's chest plate, frying him in his armor. The lightening jumped, causing another man to yelp as his sword hilt burned red hot. A shot from Varric quickly silenced him. It was good to see all this magic wasn't affecting him too badly.

However it was Anders who did most of the damage. His rage – and whatever Fade spirit possessed him – overwhelmed their forces. In an alarmingly short amount of time, they were dead. As quickly as it had come, the spirit was gone, leaving Anders panting and anger still glowing in his eyes.

Karl's face was filled with wonder.

"Anders – what did you do?" He asked, sounding breathless. I could ask the same. My blood still felt alive in my veins and my hands tingled with leftover power. I was glad my hood was still on too, for the scar had started bleeding again and the bandage felt wet to my inflamed skin. "It's like you brought a piece of the fade into the world."

He took a turn for the desperate.

"Please Anders! Kill me – I don't want to forget!"

Anders winced in despair. I lowered my eyes at Karl's frantic, agonizing face. Already the dim numbness was already beginning to creep back in. Anders glanced at me helplessly.

"It's your decision." I murmured, feeling uneasy. "But I would not want to live with such coldness forever either."

The second part I could hardly bear to whisper. How could I ask it of Anders to kill his own friend?

_How could I have asked Aveline to kill her husband? How could I have let Bethany die? _A little voice in the back of my head whispered.

"I will do it if…" I suggested, trailing off.

If you can't. The implication felt like a weight in the still air, still smelling of ozone and burnt flesh. Anders shook his head resolutely.

"No. I will."

Anders pulled knife from his belt, the keen edge pallid in the dusky morning light beginning to filter in from the windows. The stained glass turned the metal red. Karl looked at Anders, his face looking oddly peaceful. Karl smiled sadly.

"Thank you Anders. I will never forget." He said as Anders set the tip of the blade just on top of the robe. A pained look flashed across his face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you old friend." Anders said and then pushed hard. The blade pierced his heart quickly and Karl hit the ground. His death was quick and painless but the sadness ached in my heart as I placed a hand on Anders' shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

Anders stood still for a moment, staring down at the brand on Karl's forehead.

"Let's leave this place." He whispered and I nodded. We would need to leave soon anyway for people would soon be rising and the bodies of dead Templars in the Chantry would surely cause an uproar that none of us needed. I gently took the knife from his hands as we walked out, leaving the bodies stained in the red light of the dawn.

A blood red dawn had always been a bad omen.


	12. A Friend in Need

Anders, Owen and I returned to his clinic after handing Varric the maps. Varric had been unusually quiet with only a 'sorry Blondie' before he departed. I suppose it was a small kindness. I did not feel like Anders should be left alone at this moment. One friend was gone and I remained a friend.

A few people hovered outside of the clinic. I gently told Anders to go inside and sit down. He seemed too stunned and grieved to do much else. Owen followed him, making gentle shuffing noises in an attempt to comfort his friend and the people looked at him, concerned.

"If you would come back later, I will help you." I said to them calmly. "If it's an emergency tell me now."

"I don't think anyone has an emergency." A young woman said, stepping forward. She looked at everyone and they nodded the affirmative. "We'll come back later."

"My thanks." I said, bowing my head in gratitude. They dispersed but the young woman looked over her shoulder at me.

"Everyone needs someone to take care of them at some point. Look after our healer would you?" She asked.

"Of course." I agreed with a small smile. Satisfied, the woman went on her way.

I turned back to the clinic door, gently closing it behind me. Anders sat on his cot, staring at the ground. He didn't even seem to mind that Owen had put his head on the mages knee, the dog's brown eyes filled with concern. When I came closer, Owen looked up to me and whined.

"I know boy. He will be alright." I murmured, scratching his ears. I cautiously sat next to Anders. Dimly, I could still feel the slight burning sensation as before. A spirit of the Fade lived inside of him no doubt. But what kind of denizen?

"Anders?" I asked softly, trying to get his attention without touching him. To touch a mage while they were stunned might frighten them into action – a lesson I had learned all too well from Bethany. He blinked, shaking his head to snap out of it.

"I'm fine." He said, beginning to clench and unclench his hands staring at them if they weren't quite his. By the abrupt possession earlier, I didn't blame him. "I think… I owe you an explanation."

"You do at that." I said. I didn't accuse him only stated it but still he flinched. I waited for him to collect his thoughts for a moment.

"When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of the Fade. A spirit of Justice." He began slowly. "He was trapped outside of the Fade and we… became friends."

"You are lucky to meet a spirit of virtue." I murmured, secretly awed. My father had often told me stories of the spirits of virtue – Compassion, Fortitude, Courage, Strength. I had always wanted to meet one… but that was no longer possible. "They are often few and far between."

Anders laughed bitterly. I watched him, waiting patiently.

"He has been far more kind to me than I have been to him." He said, looking sorrowful. "You are aware that a Fade spirit requires a body to survive outside of the Fade?"

"Yes." I said the puzzle pieces falling into place. "You offered?"

"I thought we could work together. Give Justice to every child ripped away from their family to be sent to the Circle." Anders said. "But my emotions were too strong. It… changed him. Turned him into a spirit of Vengeance instead. Now every time I see something that used to make me angry – things like the Templars I could do nothing about – he comes out."

Silence fell on the clinic as I considered what he had said. It had been no wonder that he gave me that amount of power – anger was a powerful emotion, enough to turn a tempered spirit like Justice to Vengeance. Enough to possibly change a man as well. The way Anders glanced at me out of the corner of his eye told me he didn't expect my friendship after this. In truth, I was uneasy deep within adding together the dawn of this morning and the spirit of Vengeance but neither was I so quick to completely disregard 'Anders' himself. Anders was also a healer who helped the poor and sick – while his friend Justice might be warped it did not mean Anders himself had to as well. And I did enjoy the company of another mage.

"I do not think it is your fault." I said finally. He seemed surprised. "Neither of yours. You didn't know what would happen."

"Thank you. But no matter our fault or not, Vengeance remains." He said. It was true. We could shift the blame as many times as we wanted but the problem was still present. Anders could lose control at potentially any time.

"Perhaps I could help." I offered.

"How so?"

"I was taught a technique by a foreign man my father healed. A form of meditation that could help you both. I do not know how well…" I said, not giving the reason why I was taught. Anders didn't seem to notice.

"It would be worth a try." He agreed.

I studied his face. Dark circles had appeared under his eyes. I'm sure I didn't look much better – a weariness had settled in my bones that was hard to shake. A certain exhaustion only brought about by sorrow that made it so much more potent. I shook my head gently, suppressing a yawn. We had been up all night. It was time for sleeping.

"The next day perhaps." I said to him. "For now, rest will do the most good."

"For you as well. You look tired Logan." Anders said. I smiled wearily.

"I am. So I will go home." I said and stood up, calling Owen over. He didn't look the least bit tired. I envied his endurance. "Sleep well."

"You too."

X

My brother was still sleeping when I returned to Gamlen's. I could hear his – and Gamlen's – snoring quite easily. Mother was awake however and looked up when I came in. Her eyes softened when she saw my face. I went to haul water to wash up when she stopped me.

"Go sleep Logan. You look exhausted. I will fetch water." Mother said sternly. I shook my head slowly, wanting to argue but couldn't seem to find my words.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I'm stronger than I look dear. Who do you think you got it from?" She said a hand on her hip. I smiled glad to see she was recovering her old spirit.

"Thank you Mother." I said and she shooed me into the bedroom. Carver didn't even bat an eyelash when I entered. Changing out of my armor (thankful I cleaned it of blood) and into normal clothing, I reclined on the sack pile that made up my bed. After a long day, it was easier to pretend it didn't smell of vinegar and it was actually soft.

I fell asleep quickly.

X

_It smelled of fresh hay and dusty attics. I took another deep breath, the smell and taste of the air bringing back memories of childhood and better times. The prickling beneath me felt of hay, explaining the smell. I opened my eyes and sat up._

_ I was in our old barn in Lothering. I was sitting in my favorite spot – the top of the hay bales in the attic. The stalks didn't crunch or rustle very loud so I assumed it would be right after harvest time. Peppermint covered the faint smell of cow manure. I smiled sadly. Father used to always bring fresh springs to the barn because Mother complained it smelled. He would then give her the leaves and she would smile. Our tea would smell of peppermint those days. _

_ But here the smells weren't quite as fresh, not quite as real. I knew where I was – I had since I had figuratively woken up. I was in the Fade and the demons might soon arrive. But for now, it was a good dream. I hadn't a peaceful visit here in a long time. _

_ I stood up and looked down at my clothing. The shirt was threadbare and patched in many places but well loved. The blue stitching around the neck indicated it was mine as Bethany and Carver had a habit of taking my clothing now and then. When we were younger, they did it all the time. The pants had black stitching – Carvers' then. I did used to have a habit of wearing his pants because Mother liked to buy me more skirts than trousers. _

_ How times have changed. _

_ My bare feet made the floor creak under my weight as I climbed down. The barn was empty but a stinging sensation in my scar forewarned me that the demons were not far away. I ignored it for now and stepped across the room, pushing open the barn doors gently. The warm, misty light filtered into the darkness and I stepped out to greet it. _

_ Wildflowers of all sorts bloomed in the yard. Some of them held tiny flames in the center of their petals and others were ones I had come to cherish in my childhood. While the sun shone, a storm circle hovered around the edges. This was not how my home looked but rather an extension of my own magic into the Fade. Father had always said my magic was wild. Both a blessing and a curse – beautiful but destructive. _

_ 'Logan?' _

_ I closed my eyes as the sudden lance of pain seared my heart and scar. Bethany's voice. No…. a demon imposter. I turned slightly, my black tangled hair drifting over one shoulder. Bethany stood next to the house. My heart ached. She may be a demon but she looked so much like my little sister. The sister I spent hours braiding hair, playing games and teaching magic to. _

_ 'Leave me be demon. You'll find no host here.' My voice was cold and the sky rumbled ominously above my head. Bethany's face turned into a sneer and I shut my eyes tight, taking a deep breath to calm my frayed emotions. When I opened them again, the demon had vanished and my scar burned fiercely. Instead, a blue glow diffused over the meadow. I looked at the trees on the other side and a human form stepped out. _

_ Anders?_

_ No. I corrected myself. The blue glow looked like him but was not. The rawness of magic and Fade around him… No, this was Justice. He stepped into my dream and the flowers turned to him like he was the sun and just as quickly turned away. A corrupted but still a virtue held a good deal of sway here. _

_ 'Justice.' I addressed him, bowing my head slightly. Demons I had known to wander this place – creatures ever present. Mages could not get rid of them and so I accepted their presence. But this felt different. I knew Anders and the fact that Justice was taking his shape was throwing me off balance. This place, this dream, was far too precious (and horrible) and so close to my heart. It felt like an invasion of privacy. _

_ 'You are the mage that helped Anders.' _

_ His voice echoed far too loudly across the small plain. I restrained a wince as it echoed in my ears and sent my eye burning again. It was but a dream and the pain felt as real. I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling very uncomfortable. I was sure to keep it hidden. _

_ 'I am.' I said. My voice seemed like a whisper in comparison. He stood, surveying the dream (my sanctuary something whispered. My nightmare.) before answering. _

_ 'The demons do not bother you.' Justice said. It was a statement, an observation._

_ 'I am not such easy prey.' I murmured, my hands clenching my arms unconsciously. 'Nothing more, nothing less.'_

_ I was plainly telling him not to ask any further. He did not press but stared at me in such a fashion that made me want to turn to shadow. I could see the vengeance in his eyes and much as justice and the contradiction made for a feeling much like a bad omen. _

_ 'So I see. You have great power mage. Will you not assist us in our goal to free the mages?' Justice asked. _

_ 'Not now.' I said plainly. The heat of his anger started to boil to the surface but I gathered myself up tall and continued. 'I have a family to see to first.'_

_ 'You are so hesitant when there is such great injustice?' He demanded, the blue flames around him beginning to burn white hot. Several flowers withered and I felt their loss keenly. 'What of your father? Your sister?'_

_ 'Neither was taken from me. Neither was killed by the Templars. They died of darkspawn, not the Circle.' I said._

_ 'And if they had? If they hadn't been able to live freely?' He growled. _

_ I went silent, considering. The storm rumbled again, dangerously. A cold breeze began to pick up. I shivered slightly – a small vision of Father being killed by the Templars and Bethany being taken away flashing in my mind. Frowning, I shook my head to clear it. Something was wrong. _

_ 'And if they had? What would you have done!' Justice roared again, his voice becoming deeper. _

_ A demon? That's impossible! I recoiled, stepping back. The sunlight vanished into dark clouds, casting the meadow into darkness as the demon Justice reached out._

_ X_

I woke with a start, dragging in air. I was sticky with sweat and the room was humid, not helping the least bit. I jerked to my feet and stumbled over the raggedy blanket I had been using. Now upright, I couldn't remember the dream I had. Only that it had woken me. I took a deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart and looked around.

The room was empty. Carver must have gotten up.

_What time is it? _I wondered, walking into the main room. Mother walked out of Gamlen's room as I took a piece of bread. The sun shining outside the door made it out to be about the fifth hour. I had slept for some time.

"Good evening Logan. Did you sleep well?" Mother asked as she came in, looking stressed and worn out. Another argument with Gamlen?

"Yes. Very well thank you." I lied calmly. It was better letting her know everything was fine. Less things for her to worry about. "Where is Carver?"

"Hm? Oh your new friend the dwarf came to get him. He asked after you too, but I told him you were sleeping." She said.

Varric did? Then I suppose it was time to move. I went to the bedroom and got into my armor again. I touched my hair for moment. It was tangled and messy – it was also getting to be long. A little bit longer than my shoulders. But I couldn't find the heart to cut it. With a sigh, I grabbed a ragged strip of cloth and tied it back in a low horse tail. It would have to do until I find the time to properly find a brush. I was not vain about my looks. My heavily scarred face saw to that but Bethany did love my hair dearly… I supposed I owed it to her to take care of it.

"Logan?" My mother called. I snapped out of whatever daze I had fallen into and returned to the living area. She had a letter in her hands. I immediately recognized the handwriting.

"Meeran again?" I said, unable to keep the slight annoyance out of my voice. Mother handed me the letter and I slip my dagger along the seal to open it.

At least this time he decided to send me work along with his usual insults. I mentally marked the name of Anso as my employer and threw the letter in the fire. It was time to go find Varric and Carver and get this done with. I waved my mother good bye and collected Owen from outside.

X

"Why are we accepting work from Meeran again?" Carver asked for almost the sixth time since we had left the Hanged Man.

"Because it is work and we still need fifty sovereigns." I replied simply.

"You get what you can." Varric added helpfully. "Besides Junior, you still owe me fifty silver."

"You were cheating!" Carver protested. I shook my head slightly but said nothing. He was most likely going to ask me for money later.

The sun had set in Lowtown and we were making our way to Anso. I had decided against going to find Anders since I had slept so late and he had used much more magic than I had. Even if he wasn't resting, he would be behind on his patients.

There was also the talk of the murders at the Chantry. How Templars – killed by magic – and a mage Tranquil killed by a dagger were found in the upper story. Many religious of Kirkwall were muttering amongst themselves unhappily. This would do no good for the mages. I had to make double sure that my powers were never seen publicly. And Varric wasn't telling.

That was when we came across a dwarf muttering to himself. He didn't see us approach and didn't turn around so I spoke.

"Are you Anso?"

"Gah!" The dwarf yelped and whirled around, nearly falling over into the crates behind him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"My apologies." I said placidly while Carver and Varric restrained a snigger.

"Are you the one that Meeran told me about?" He said nervously, his eyes darting around anxiously. This dwarf was most likely doing something illegal.

"I used to work for the Red Iron." I said evasively.

"Good! Good." Anso repeated almost to himself, wringing his hands. Definitely illegal. "I… haven't been on the surface very long. I keep feeling like I will fall into all that sky!"

"Bartrand was like that too." Varric added on, but said nothing about himself. I imagined he would have been telling himself stories or taking care of Bianca.

"I would pay to see that." Carver said with a chuckle. I secretly agreed.

"Look some of the people I hired for a shipment decided… they wouldn't deliver it. And I really need to get it back. It's quite expensive… and you know how these Templars are." As soon as he said it, he looked terrified and looked around quickly.

"So it's lyrium." I said. Carver said something snide and looked angry.

"Better be worth it then." Varric said and I bowed my head in agreement. This wasn't the first illegal thing I had done for money but running in with Templars made me hesitant to say anything.

"O-of course it will! Look, the shipment was supposed to be delivered to the abandoned house down in the Alienage." Anso said all at once. I simply nodded my head. Carver was fuming but Varric looked somewhat pleased.

I had been the Alienage several times before on mission for the Red Iron and sometimes by myself. I did not find the elves lesser beings at all – I had seen them before and was always fascinated, ever since I was a little girl. Especially with the stories the Dalish told. Of course, some were as slippery and corrupt as humans – in all phases they were not much different from us.

But tonight, the Alienage was quiet. Almost eerily so. This was too familiar.

"Keep an eye out Hawke." Varric said, Bianca in his hands. Carver seemed oblivious but I took a hand of the staff and pulled it off. I made straight for the house. If this was a deal gone awry, it was better to get it over with quickly.

I gently turned the knob and pushed the door open. The fragile, rotted piece of wood bowed inward and nearly fell. I froze as it creaked. Nothing happened. I glanced over at Varric and Carver who nodded, at the ready. I jerked my head at Owen. The dog crept into the room, sniffing. His lips curled back and I knew he smelled men. Twirling my staff, I stepped lightly to the next door. I was about to push it open when Varric grabbed my arm.

He pointed to my feet and shook his head. I looked down and carefully stepped back. A tripwire attached to two barrels blocked the way. I switched the ends of the staff and gestured my friends to step back. They stepped to the other side of the room and I clipped the wire, running to the other side.

The barrels exploded and I turned my face away as splinters pelted the ground. Shouts and yells burst with the explosion. The mercenaries who had taken Ansos goods milled uncertainly as flames licked the doorway. Several of them were on the ground, burned. An arrow whizzed through the air as Varric took down a man. This spurred them into leaping across the flame barrier. The first man to do so was rewarded with a slice across the neck.

I ducked under the next and slammed the wooden end into his stomach. I plucked the knife from my belt with my free hand and drove it deep into the next heart. Blocking with the staff, Carver took care of my attacker easily his blue eyes reflecting the flames. Which were quickly becoming a problem. If they kept burning, we would be in trouble. I took a deep breath and breathed out. The air dropped several degrees and the flames sunk lower before being covered in a fine frost. It would melt by morning.

"Brr. Did you have to make it so cold Hawke?" Varric asked, rubbing his arm. His breath curled into mist.

"Maybe if you put a shirt on?" I suggested coolly. He chuckled, shaking his head.

"But then the ladies would miss the chest hair." He retorted with a grin. I shook my head and walked into the next room, my feet crunching on burned wood. A chest stood in the center of the room, the locks broken and twisted. I frowned and gently pushed it open with my foot.

Empty.

Varric and Carver cursed, my frown deepened. Anso had put us up to this but for what purpose?

"What a waste of bloody time." Varric grumbled. I nodded mutely in agreement turning to lead them out. I made to push open the door when Owen snarled and leapt passed me, onto a man that would have surely ended my life. Owen sank his teeth deep into the throat of my would be assassin and I jumped into action.

The first thing I noticed was these men were far more heavily armored and had much better weaponry. The language they were shouting to each other was unfamiliar to me. But it was kill or be killed. I stepped nimbly around my attackers using both ends of the staff to incapacitate and kill. Their weapon styles were unfamiliar but clumsy. It was the mage that was the problem.

I leapt onto the bench surrounded the tree. Varric and Carver were getting pounded by magic and I clenched my jaws. No magic Logan. I reminded myself and quickly ran around the base of the tree, avoiding swords and punches. I didn't see the force bolt. I swerved to the side and it exploded next to me. I hit the wall with a gasp, the breath driven from my lungs. Sliding down, I narrowly avoided the ice bolt. Breathing out another small rind of permafrost in exasperation, I threw the staff as hard as I could. It missed but distracted him enough for me to end his life with my knife.

Owen growled threateningly again, blood splattered muzzle making him look even more intimidating. I heard the heavily clad boots beginning down the stairs to the Alienage but I ignored it for now, collecting the staff from beside the dead body of the mage. I turned around slowly and saw another soldier.

"You've made a big mistake coming here." He said his voice furiously angry. "Lieutenant I want everyone in the clearing now!"

I tensed as a man emerged from a corner. Blood bubbled from his lips as he collapsed on the ground, dead with no wounds to my eye. I held my staff protectively as a white haired elf stepped from around the corner.

"Your men are dead. Your trap has failed." He said, stepping down the stairs. His eyes were green I realized. Elaborate tattoos curled down his bare arms and disappeared beneath black leather and metal. His voice had the same accent as the other man. "I suggest leaving while you can."

The elf moved as if to speak with me when the soldier grabbed his arm.

"You're going nowhere slave!" He hissed. The elf whipped around, the tattoos glowed blue. Lyrium? I realized and then sucked in my breath as the elf literally pushed his hand through the man's chest. In a heartbeat, blood was bubbling around the soldier's lips and he collapsed. The elf withdrew his hand, the gauntlet with its sharp spiked fingers dyed red.

"I am no slave." The elf snarled at the dead body at his (bare) feet. Carver's hands went to his greatsword and I put my hand on his arm, shaking my head firmly. The elf hadn't attacked and technically just saved our lives. He turned to me and I lifted my chin. He was only a little taller – and leaner than Anders. He looked distracted and anxious.

"When I asked Anso to find me a distraction, I didn't expect them to be so numerous." He said, displeased. I frowned and rotated to follow his pacing.

"I see. You were behind… this?" I said, gesturing to the dead around me.

"Indeed. I am Fenris. The hunters were trying to drive me into the open and crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone." The elf – Fenris – said. "They were trying to recover a magisters lost property – namely myself. Thankfully, Anso chose well."

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked back at the dead with added disdain.

"If they were slavers than I am glad I helped." I said truthfully, calm as ever.

He surveyed me with wary, contemplative eyes.

"…May I ask what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?" Fenris asked, looking hopeful.

"It was empty." I said, tilting my head curiously.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for." He murmured.

"What did you think was in it?"

"It was bait, nothing else."

His voice was sharp and I did not pry.

"You could have just asked." I murmured.

"At that point I didn't know if I could trust you." Fenris said and walked over to the dead captain. Kneeling, Fenris rifled through his pockets. With a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a letter. He didn't even glance at it but knew.

"It's as I thought. My old master-" He spat the word. "Is here in the city. I must confront him before morning – will you help me?"

I paused. What an abrupt turn things had taken. Moments ago it had only been a simple job. Now we face a magister? What I knew of Tevinter Magisters was bad news. They didn't know moral right from wrong. All they cared for was power. And that usually meant blood magic. Either way, this man kept Fenris as a slave and I didn't much care for blood magic.

"I will help you." I said and Carver snorted. I glanced at him and he looked unhappy. As he did with anything doing of magic. I almost wished he were drunk again.

"I will find a way to repay you I promise." Fenris said gravely.

"Lead the way."

X

Fenris brought us to a very decrypt old mansion. It smelled of dust and decay. And it was giving off a deathly feeling only I seemed to sense. Which meant magic. I nodded to Fenris who was standing at the door, listening.

"I have heard nothing from within. Danarius might already know we're here." He murmured to me. I nodded, feeling unease at imaging what a cornered magister might come to.

"Might as well just get this over with." Varric grumbled and I bowed my head in agreement. I glanced at Owen. His hackles were up – he was uneasy, knowing there were enemies about – but he looked at me, confused. There were enemies within but he didn't know how to react.

This was ill favored.

Fenris opened the door and he strode in. My companions and I followed more slowly. Owen yelped suddenly and the door slammed shut behind us. Carver whirled and immediately attempted to open it.

"Damn it!" He shouted, yanking his hand back when it burned him. That's when the shades attacked. I didn't think. There was no time. I grabbed my brother's hand and ignoring his struggles, froze the burn. I whirled on the shades. Varric was swearing under his breath as the arrows only passed right through their incorporeal bodies. Carver was still trying to grasp his sword with the burns. Only Fenris seemed to be doing some damage – with the lyrium flowing through his veins he at least managed.

We would get overwhelmed soon.

I called the lightning to my palm and threw it. The bolt went straight throw a shade, disintegrating it to ash. I saw Fenris tense but made no notice. Instead I threw a ball of fire that jumped from one to another. The blade Fenris wielded cut through the burning shades with ease. The piles of dust and ash swirled in the aftermath of the battle. The elf whirled on me.

"You are a mage." He hissed, his eyes spiteful and angry. I was surprised but didn't show it.

"I am."

"And what do you want?" He snarled, followed but what I was sure was insults. Carver tensed beside me. I simply looked him in the eye and frowned, making my disapproval known.

"If I hadn't been here, you would have been overwhelmed and killed. Magic harms magic. I am not your master." I returned coolly and took Carver's hand again. The flesh was red and inflamed but it wasn't too bad.

"I don't like him Logan." Carver whispered in my ear and Varric talked to a fuming Fenris.

"I know Carver." I said gently. At this point, I didn't like him much either. But I was touched by his defensiveness. I carefully rubbed a salve into the wound and then wrapped it. He flexed his fingers and gave me a small smile. I returned it.

"We should get this over with." Fenris growled through clenched teeth.

"Look if you have a problem with my sister you have a problem with me." Carver snapped, striding past him. I appreciated the thought no matter how hopeless it was. Carver was inexperienced and hot headed. While he had size, Fenris was an experienced killer. I only followed my brother. Owen bared his teeth at Fenris as he passed.

More shades and rage demons. It left a foul taste in my mouth to see mages resorting to things like this. Lightening crackled and clapped in the room as bolts of it leapt from my fingers to strike the foul Fade creatures. That is when the Arcane horror appeared. Strong in magic, weak in constitution they were a forced to reckoned with it left to their own devices. Fenris didn't see it. A telekinetic prison wrapped itself around his body and I only noticed when I heard his cry of pain. I ran and slammed my staff into Fenris' stomach, knocking him out of the field and gritted my teeth when it turned its attention to me. I gathered the force and reflected it back at the arcane. The spell stunned the monster but didn't kill it. I deflected the plasma bolt with a staff strike and was forced into defending myself.

Fenris was the one who killed it. He only glared at me when it was dead. I ignored him again and shifted the dust with the toe of my boots. The glimmer of a key caught my attention. I kneeled and touched it quickly. The metal was smooth and cool. I picked it up warily and Fenris looked down at me.

"It's the key to Danarius' door." He affirmed coldly. I handed it to him and he made to unlock the door. When it creaked open, me in the foreground to block any spells, it was empty. Fenris made a series of curses in a language I came to know as Tevinter.

"Gone. I had hoped… Never mind. I need air. Take whatever you want." Fenris said and brushed past. Varric immediately went to look at the items the magister left behind. Carver took Owen and joined him. I turned around slightly to watch Fenris leave, not even sure why.

His shoulders were tight and hunched as he walked away. I felt regret that I could not help him, no matter how much he hated me.

* * *

AN: So, almost 6k words this chapter and right after the next.

Sorry for the long wait! Read and Review please!

It gives me motivation!

-Triade.


	13. A Meeting in Vain

The magister left only few things behind. Some money and a small bag of gemstones were the most valuable items in the chests of the dilapidated bedroom. Or so Carver and Varric told me. I had been scanning the mansion for any last traces of blood magic or traps that might be harmful. Aveline would be furious if she found out a tax collector was killed because of blood magic. And she had enough on her plate – I was certain the dead Templers in the church did nothing to ease that burden. The Templers had deservedly earned their fate but I felt a small twinge of guilt of the problems I was likely to cause her. I was the only apostate she knew of in the city after all and she had kept quiet.

I returned to the main hall to find Carver and Varric standing by the open door to Hightown. Varric was quietly saying something, Carver looked furious and Owen trotted back to me, his fur standing on end and looking decidedly fierce. I gently stroked the mabari-mixes head and joined my brother and friend.

It was Fenris they were talking to which I hardly found surprising. The elf glared at me the instant I appeared. This was a problem between him and I. Varric might help to calm the situation but any good he did would be completely obliterated by Carver's clumsy threats. I was grateful that my little brother cared so much about me but I was also concerned for his wellbeing. Fenris had ripped out a man's heart without so much as glancing at him – Carver wouldn't stand a chance if the elf had enough of his insults.

"You two go on without me." I said quietly. Varric looked up at me and sighed.

"Baby sitting again eh?" The dwarf whispered to me and I bowed my head apologetically. I did realize Varric was looking after Carver more than I was recently – a fact I recognized and did not like – but I had little choice. If only Bethany was here… she was so much better at calming her twin. "Don't worry about it Sparky."

_Sparky? _I thought, puzzled. I would have to ask him about the nickname some other time though for Fenris didn't look like he could be held off much longer.

"Be careful Logan." Varric said, shepherding Carver off. "I'd hate to lose a business partner already."

Fenris, at least, had the decency to wait until they were out of earshot. I turned back to him and found Owen had wedged himself firmly between the two of us. I gently rested a hand on his leather collar to remind him we were talking, not fighting. Nevertheless, he refused to budge and kept a wary eye on the elf. Fenris eyed us both with distaste.

"It seems no matter where I go magic follows. A blighted curse upon my life." He said bitterly his arms crossed over his metal-plated chest. "What is it you want?"

I stayed quiet for a moment, stroking Owen's head contemplatively. How to answer such a controversial question? While I didn't think it would matter what I said – this man was obviously scarred by magic – it would be better for me, as a mage, to keep on his good side. Fenris' lyrium tattoos were deadly enough but there was also that greatsword strapped across his back to contend with as well. I didn't want to add to his troubles anyhow. He'd seen enough in his life.

"I want nothing." I finally said sincerely and calmly. I did want nothing from him at the very least. The only thing I had ever wanted was to keep my family safe.

"And yet trouble will undoubtedly find you." He said the implications very unpleasant.

"Perhaps someday." I agreed coolly. I did not feel to mention that I had decided not to use my magic abilities unless I felt it absolutely necessary to. Fenris did not seem the type to actively mention the fact that I was an apostate – he may hate me but he would not bring others to fight this battle.

He didn't appear to like the answer and growled under his breath. I tightened my hold on Owen's collar as I felt the responding growl through the dog. Fenris paced a little bit and seemed to reel in some of his anger as I waited, watching him warily. He seemed a little unnerved by my lack of emotion.

"I imagine I sound ungrateful. That is not the case." Fenris said when he calmed down enough. He held out a bag that jingled. "Here is all the coin I have – as Anso promised."

I looked at the bag struck with a decision. I didn't like the idea of having someone as dangerous as Fenris disliking me. And there was always money to be made elsewhere.

"Keep it. I was glad to help." I said simply. Fenris apparently took this as arrogance and bristled.

"Just take it." He snapped. I looked at him strangely and shook my head in refusal.

"You may end up needing it more than I. You owe me nothing."

I didn't realize I was sounding like he did owe me something or it could be taking as a threat. Apparently so because he looked infuriated.

"Then I offer my sword arm." He said stiffly. I paused and relented. Obviously, he would not take no as an answer. I imagined him owing something to a mage was a blow to his pride and it would be disastrous to push him any farther.

"I am going on an expedition I might need help with later if that is a worthy enough mission." I said finally.

"Very well then. If you must find me, I will be here." Fenris said, inclining his head to the mansion. His moss green eyes were set with cold steel. "If Danarius wants his mansion back, he's free to come and claim it."

I do not know why I said it but I felt like I had to.

"Be careful then." I murmured. He only glared at me as if I were taking Danarius' side. I should have said something else as well but I'd taken enough wrong steps around him. I bowed my head slightly in goodbye before turning and making my way towards The Hanged Man – where I was likely to find my brother and Varric again.

X

As always, the bar was crowded. It usually was after dark. I threaded my way quietly through the crowd with my hood hiding my face. I honestly did not see why it was so crowded. Truly, the ale tasted like stale vomit with the consistency of water. The food was not much better.

"'Ell, if it ain't my ole bitchmate Logan." A man's drunken slur caught my attention. The hand on my shoulder made my skin crawl in disgust. A mercenary from Meeran's crew I noted as I turned slightly to look at him. A big man with several poorly done tattoos. I didn't recognize him. It didn't matter if I did or not, almost all of them knew me and none of them with fondness. I had a feeling there would be a fight as several others stood up from the bar with nasty grins painted on their ugly faces.

I slowly moved my hand to his wrist, glaring at him coldly. Owen had begun to snarl. Many of them had overcome their fright of my massive canine companion I saw with distaste. It would not do them well. The crowded bar had fallen silent and many heads turned to look at us. Already I could hear whispered bets going around. It was not uncommon for there to be three or four bar fights a night here in the Hanged Man. Some of the patrons here knew who I was and who I was affiliated with – that being Varric – and left me alone. Owen scared the rest off. I could see eagerness on the faces of the mercenaries.

"Me thinks it's 'bout time someones taught this bitch a lesson ya mates?" The ringleader slurred a wild light in his eyes. "Too bad she's so blighin ugly with half 'er face missin!"

His companions roared with laughter. My hand slowly encircled the big man's wrist as the coldness settled in my gut. I considered giving him frostbite enough to snap his fingers off but rejected the idea. The men were drunk and that was a poor use of magic in front of so many people. Still, it would be wise to teach these men a lesson. Men believing themselves in power often led to women being treated poorly for it. In this case, my scarred face was a blessing. I knew at least one of these men had taken advantage of some poor market girl with no power to stop it.

I tightened my grip on his wrist when he stepped forward. The instant he realized I had hold of him it was too late for him to do much about it. I immediately stepped up with him and used his momentum to flip him over me. He was a heavy man and I would have never been able to do it if he hadn't been so overconfident and charged but he did and he fell like a stone. The crowd instantly retreated as his fellows charged me. Wild, drunken cheering filled the tense silence of before. I shut it out as I focused on my attackers.

Owen leapt on the first man, sinking his teeth deep into the mans' calf. He screamed and it was high pitched in pain. I had no pity nor mercy for such scum and focused only on the next. I ducked under his fist and jabbed my elbow into his side as he passed. The man yelped and another fellow jumped at me from behind. I stepped to the side and kicked him in the back of the knee. He fell onto his mate. Had he been sober, he might have actually managed to hit me. Strange how alcohol makes people even more foolish than before.

The sound of a knife caught my attention. I whirled around only to find the man clutching his leg with an arrow sticking out of it. His partner suddenly collapsed to reveal Anders. He was hooded – of course – and holding his staff. He must have hit the mercenary over the back of the head with the wooden end.

"Are you alright?" Anders asked me as I carefully took the knife from the unconscious man. The other one swiped at me sluggishly. I just leaned back and caught his wrist before prying the weapon from his fingers.

"Unharmed." I meant to say it calmly but there was a sharp bite of anger to my tone that I couldn't get rid of.

"Now, now boys. This is what you get for bringing knives to a fist fight." Varric's voice floated out of the crowd and there was a cheer for him as the dwarf made his way through the crowd, Bianca perched on his shoulders. He made his way over to me and said casually, "You might want to call your dog off before he actually kills that poor sod Sparky."

"Sparky?" Anders repeated amused while I whistled to Owen. The Mabari had his teeth clenched around the same mercenary's leg. The man had already passed out. Owen gave a small disappointed huff before releasing him and trotting back over to me.

"Why don't you two go upstairs? I'll get this mess cleaned up." Varric suggested as the crowd began collecting bets. "Besides, I believe some people owe me money."

I was hardly surprised Varric had placed bets on me but I was surprised to see Anders here. I waited until we were on the stairway and out of the crowd to talk.

"I never expected to see you here." I told him as I pushed open the door to Varric's suite. Carver was passed out in a chair which explains why he didn't join the fight earlier. I had expected him to be the first person to jump into a brawl.

"I came to deliver the maps to Varric when we heard your fight downstairs." Anders replied and slid off his hood as the door closed. I did as well and took a seat next to the fire. The cold fury in my bones hadn't faded yet. "Were those Meeran's?"

"I believe so." I said as Owen made himself comfortable on the red wool rug just in front of my feet. He looked quite proud as I scratched behind his ears. Anders went quiet for a moment as he took the seat to my right.

"I heard about what happened. With the Tevinters." Anders said his voice dangerously smooth. There was a blue glint in his brown eyes as he neglected to mention Fenris. I should have known Varric would have told him – the dwarf loved telling a story. I should have asked him not to mention it to Anders.

"It's over now." I said evasively, purposely trying to avoid a conflict. Anders wasn't giving up so easily.

"Why didn't you take me with you?" Anders demanded. I sighed and rubbed my temples. I hoped he wasn't too angry with me. I was also secretly nervous as his eyes shifted different shades of brown and blue.

"I am sorry Anders. You were exhausted after… what happened." I admitted. "I didn't want to bother you with this."

He visibly calmed himself. When Anders opened his eyes again, they were his normal shade of honey brown. I reminded myself to get to teaching him that meditation. And given that my fury had old just started to melt, I needed it myself as well.

"It's not a bother Logan. You're my friend." Anders said finally. "That elf Varric told me about seems very dangerous. A mage hater. And you insisted on talking to him yourself?"

"I had Owen with me." I said defensively. "Fenris may hate mages but I don't think he would outright attack me."

"You'd be surprised." Anders said bitterly. "At least it's over with."

I hesitated and Anders saw it.

"Logan – it is over?" He asked again.

"I offered for him to help with the expedition." I admitted, watching as he went from shocked to defensive and angry.

"You… offered him a job." Anders repeated flatly.

"He didn't want a debt owed." I said, purposely not mentioning I had turned down the money. "And we'll need help with this."

"You don't think you, your brother, Varric, Owen and I are enough?" He said sharply, looking a little betrayed.

I looked down, glancing at my brother out of the corner of my eye. Carver was deep asleep so he wouldn't hear me say this.

"I'm not taking my brother with us." I said quietly, meeting his eyes with hard ones. "It's too dangerous."

Anders paused, taking this in before revising his strategy.

"And you think this elf will actually be willing to help two apostates?" He hissed. "What's to stop him from turning on us?"

"I don't know." I said heavily, too tired to really argue with him. The door opened before Anders could reply and my mage friend sat back in his chair as Varric entered. Anders relaxed slightly seeing him. I suppose Anders would get edgy in a place as public and crowded as the Hanged Man. I did too, sometimes.

Varric glanced between the two of us suspiciously. I gave him a hard look and he gave me a grin, guessing what I was irritated about.

"What Sparky? Blondie would have found out eventually." Varric said with a shrug. The dwarf was infallible.

"I hope so." Anders grumbled, not pleased with this whole situation.

"Why 'Sparky'?" I asked, hoping to change the subject. I didn't want to argue with Anders. I had a feeling the argument was going nowhere and I liked having him as a friend.

Varric shrugged, throwing a purse on the table. It chinked quite loudly.

"Don't think you've noticed Hawke but when you get mad, you throw off sparks. You were doing it earlier against those shades." Varric said nonchalantly.

"Shades?" Anders repeated incredulously and gave me a pointed look.

"Thanks Varric." I said dryly. Why did he have to mention the shades?

"No problem Sparky. Now if you two are finished being mad at each other over something so stupid, we have plans to discuss." Varric said resolutely.

I sighed heavily, knowing I had some explaining to do to Anders later and began to go over entrances and exits with them.

X

I had hoped to wait until Carver woke up to leave but it seemed like he was out cold. I was going to have to take him back to Gamlen's the hard way. That had been my excuse to Anders at least but he hadn't bought it. I silently resigned myself to an argument and went to heave my brother's arm over my shoulders. Anders quietly took up the other side. My brother just snored loudly.

"Thank you Varric." I said to the dwarf. He looked up from the maps and waved cheerfully.

"Night Sparky, Blondie. Play nice now." Varric called. I looked away as Anders called a goodnight. Both of us pulled up our hoods before we left. At least the bar had quieted down. The mercenaries were nowhere to be found but I saw their daggers in the hands of some other patrons and at least two pairs of their pants scattered around. What did Varric do?

Anders and I carefully picked our way through unconscious drunks and out the door. We were halfway across the market before Anders spoke.

"Next time you go throwing sparks against shades, you are taking me with you." He said resolutely. I was relieved that he had dropped the Fenris argument, at least for now.

"I didn't know there were going to be shades there." I said in my defense.

"But there were." He said flatly, being stubborn. I rolled my eyes.

"If you wish." I relented. It wasn't going to be my fault if he got behind on patients. I quickly regretted the saying and the thought. He has patients and if he goes with me on all my escapades, he won't neglect them. Anders will just wear himself out more and more. But now was not the time to bring it up.

He seemed contented enough with the answer and helped me up the stairs to the front door of Gamlens. Anders let Carver lean on him as I opened the door. A dark shadow moved inside and I held my breath. Did we wake Mother? Leandra emerged from the shadows to hold the door.

"Logan?" She asked and looked at me and Carver and then her eyes flickered to Anders with confusion. Anders looked a little nervous. "And who is this?"

"A friend Mother. He helped me with Carver." I explained quietly, watching Anders out of the corner of my eye. A flicker of surprise went over his face before respectfulness set in.

"I am sorry for waking you so late." Anders apologized.

"That is alright. Bring Carver in." She said her eyes on Anders contemplatively. She glanced at me and I inwardly grimaced. I knew that look. She always complained how I would never get married or brought a man back with me.

"I have him. Thank you." I told Anders quietly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go get some rest yourself." I said and he nodded to me and my mother. As Mother shut the door and I hauled Carver to our room, I knew I wasn't going to hear the end of this tomorrow.


	14. A Hope for the Future

I walked up the stairs to Hightown, Owen trotting at my side. I had risen especially early today to avoid my mother who was blissfully absent this morning – perhaps she had gone to the market. The freshest (I used the term relatively as nothing was ever 'fresh' in Lowtown unless you either made it or hunted it yourself) food was available in the early mornings when those too hung over wouldn't get up. I saw two of those mercenaries who had been in the Hanged Man last night – on their backs, in a gutter. They weren't dead as far as I could tell but they would sport some bruises for days to come. The rest of the trip was uneventful for even though I had left my staff at home, most people had heard of the fight.

Owen looked unhappy. He knew the way we were walking and the stare he gave me as we arrived clearly said 'are you insane?' I gave him a stern look as I raised my hand to knock on Fenris' door. Even with Anders' warning, I could not just leave Fenris be. I had to let him know that I would not be a threat as he didn't seem to believe me the last time we met. We had to be able to have some sort of cooperation if we were going to work together.

For a while it was quiet in the mansion. I wondered if I should go. It was early in the morning after all. He could still be resting. Then again he was also on the run, so the smallest noise would wake him up. Fenris could just be ignoring me as well which I wouldn't find so surprising. But then a shuffling noise from inside caught my attention. Owen started growling and I tapped a finger on his head, giving him a quiet no.

The door opened cautiously to reveal Fenris already fully armored. His shockingly white hair was still messy with sleep. It made the dark threat in his eyes much less frightening. He had a similar scowl from yesterday on his face.

"I apologize if I woke you." I said.

"You didn't." Was his curt reply. I had a hard time believing it but I said nothing.

"I…. feel like we ended badly yesterday." I started sincerely. "I did not mean to offend you."

Fenris scoffed. I watched him slightly, confused. I noticed the smell of alcohol. Had he been drinking? This early in the morning? Owen glared at Fenris, obviously angry this man disliked me. I kept a hand close to him just in case Owen should decide he'd had enough.

"Perhaps you didn't." Fenris replied. His words were cryptic and I bristled on the inside. Was he implying I offended him simply by being a mage? This man was prickly. As we had been talking, Hightown was waking up. Several servants had begun to stare at us and whisper to each other. Fenris was obviously not happy with this and shifted slightly.

"May I come in?" I offered and he paused, considering. After a moment, he nodded, his eyes concealing whatever he was feeling about letting a mage into his safe house. Fenris stepped back so that I could come in. I kept Owen on the other side of my legs, using myself as a wall between my over-protective mabari and the wary elf. I waited patiently for him to close the door and followed as he led us into a smaller room off the hall.

Obviously Fenris did not intent to clean the mansion. It was still in tatters and the dust we kicked up made Owen sneeze several times in a row. I saw Fenris tense at the noise but he stiffly kept walking. I sat where he indicated on a dusty bench. I restrained a sneeze myself. How long had it been since this Magister was here?

Fenris had turned to pick something off another bench nearby before sitting down. I immediately saw that it was wine. When he caught my eyes his expression was bitter and hard to read.

"Aggregio Parvalli. There are six bottles in the cellar." He explained, taking a drink. I held my tongue even though I strongly disapproved of drinking liquor this early in the morning. "Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated," he put a disgusted stress on the word, "them which he enjoyed."

I could not restrain my own disgust at his former master. That was a cruel, cruel thing to do if slavery wasn't bad enough. I realized too late that Fenris had caught some sign of something on my face as his eyes reflected only hatred.

"He sounds like a terrible man." I said, hoping to ease the misunderstanding. "Slavery was reason enough for me to dislike him but this-"

I shook my head, keeping the feeling of helpless anger out of my expression. Fenris' story held a double meaning for me. It was the Tevinters and their cruelty that put my kind in a bad light everywhere. Their never-ending thirst for power was why the Chantry hunted mages down, no matter where or to whom we were born.

Fenris eyed me warily for moment as if suspecting a trick. Then he got up and looked away from me, the bottle still in his hands.

"He is indeed." And as if the thought of agreeing with another mage on the subject of a mage brought back an uncontrollable rage, he threw the bottle at the wall with enough force to shatter it. The action was sudden and it had startled me but I was proud that I remained sitting perfectly still. Owen, however, jumped with a snarl – apparently offended by the gesture. I reached down to stroke his head.

"'tis quite alright my dear Owen." I murmured softly. The mabari glared balefully at Fenris who was simply watching this exchange with a little bit of interest before Owen knew Fenris wasn't going to throw any more bottles. The dog settled again, only closer to my legs. It might have been my imagination but Fenris' expression seemed to soften a fraction.

"You've had a difficult life." I stated gently, hoping that this, perhaps, meant we could start again on a better foot. Fenris made looked at the fire as if looking at me too long made him uncomfortable.

"I'd rather not speak more of it." His tone was flat and dry. I was not offended in the least by this. It was understandable. Either he did not trust me, which was unsurprising, or it was traumatic. It could very well be both.

"I'm willing to listen when you need to speak." I offered softly. That made him turn to look at me and the corners of his lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. Even if it was rather bitter and more of a smirk, it was a small accomplishment. It was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a guarded look. A small bit of confusion shadowed his eyes and disappeared too before he sat on the bench nearby me. He did not seem to know what to make of my offer. It was an offer for the future perhaps when he trusted me.

It was a short while before he spoke again.

"Have you never wanted to return to Fereldan?" Fenris asked his hands clasped lightly before him as he stared into the small flames of the fireplace. I went quiet, examining my fingers twisted in my lap. It was a difficult question to answer. I had not thought of Fereldan in a long time for all my good memories had been poisoned by the nightmares in which I spent my nights reliving my failures as an older sister. I had no wish to speak of that death to a stranger.

_How can you expect him to trust you when you don't trust him?_ A little voice whispered to me. I simply ignored it. One day maybe. I could feel Fenris looking at me now, his brow furrowed.

"My life is here now." I said simply. It was not a lie but it was not the truth either. This answer seemed to annoy him.

"And that's it?" He demanded his voice accusing. I would have bristled with anger had I not been keeping a tight grasp on my expression. "You leave it behind so easily?"

"I did not do so easily." I said, straining to keep a collected tone. How dare he suggest I could simply leave my whole childhood behind as if it did not matter? Through my pant leg, I felt Owen's muscles tighten in response to my distress and I forced myself to relax.

"And it no longer matters now?" Fenris snapped in response.

"It matters a great deal." My tone was stony and cool but at least it wasn't a snap or a yell. I had to remind myself that he didn't know anything about me. He probably assumed my life had been easy, having been raised in a place where mages had all the power. How wrong he was. Magic was worthless when it couldn't defend the people you loved. Fenris seemed to have caught some indication that my defensive tone was because I had lost something for he stopped.

"I apologize. Your life is your own." The apology seemed forced but I allowed the hardness of my expression to fade somewhat even though the stings of his accusation still throbbed sorely.

"I understand." I said more calmly. There was another pause before I asked the question that had been on my mind. "Do you intend to stay here in Kirkwall?"

My tone was simply curious and Fenris, at least, did not appear to be offended. It was ever so easy to offend such a prickly man. I had a sudden desire to speak to Anders who, although fervent in his work, never misunderstood my words and rarely took offense. I doubt he would be very happy in finding out that the day after his warning, I had gone anyway to speak to the man he found fault with.

"For now." He answered curtly. "I suppose it's as good a place as any other."

Then quietly, so quietly I almost missed it: "I would return to Seheron if I could… but there is no life for me there."

For a moment I was afraid to ask after this place but decided to try.

"Is Seheron where you are from?" I kept my tone gentle and neutral, doing my best not to rile him again.

"So I've been told."

"Told?" I repeated appearing simply curious. In truth I was shocked. He did not remember his home and yet his master would torture him by telling him of the home he did not know?

"Yes, told." His words had a dark finality to them and I dropped the subject in respect.

I wanted to ask a great deal of questions – about Fenris himself, about his master, about his escape but I did not want to push him any further. He had already shown me a great deal of respect or trust in telling me of where he was from and not immediately accusing or attacking me when I asked him. I didn't want to ruin that.

"I could see myself staying… for the right reasons." Fenris answered me then looked at me again. His tone was carefully neutral. "I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters."

I smiled a little bit at him, tilting my head gracefully. He looked slightly surprised at this.

"I was glad to help Fenris." Then, remembering my last exchange with him over money said, "You're welcome."

The tension and anger that had been in the air since the moment we met dissolved a great deal. It would not vanish in simply one meeting, I was beyond hoping for such an improvement, but I was very glad to see that at least we could behave as normal people around each other.

"I should not keep you any longer." Fenris said, standing. I waited till he was on his feet before I followed his action. It would be good to show him the respect he never had. I had a faint feeling of gratitude from him. His expression was still guarded and wary but I knew it would take more than a simple conversation to change his first view of me, one he had hated all his life: as a mage.

"Shall we go Owen?" I said to the dog that had just gotten up. The mabari gave a disdainful sniff as he strode past Fenris.

"I'm sorry. He is not usually so bad tempered." I said apologetically to Fenris as I walked to the doorway where Owen waited. I swear if mabari could roll their eyes, Owen would have.

"It is fine." Was Fenris' reply but there was contemplation in his eyes. I wondered briefly what he was thinking about before I turned and left, believing my welcome to be overstayed. I passed through the dark mansion and into Hightown feeling as if a large burden had been lifted off my shoulders. Owen seemed a great deal happier to be away from Fenris as his ears perked up and his tail wagged. It wasn't till he barked in welcome at someone that I noticed a hooded man standing in the shadows of the courtyard.

Tall, wearing a hood and welcomed by Owen – there was only one man that it could be. I strode over to Anders in the shadows, mildly annoyed that he had followed me. He looked angry and a little more than mildly annoyed but it was hard to tell what he was thinking with the hood shading his eyes.

"Why did you follow me?" I asked, carefully avoiding using his name in such a public place. He was already taking a large risk by coming to Hightown of all places, part of the reason I was a little annoyed.

"I was worried." He said. He had the decency to look a little ashamed at least. "You are one of the few friends I have Logan. I didn't want you to get hurt."

I softened and smiled.

"That's kind of you. But I can take care of myself as you can see." I spread out my arms in a gesture to show I was unhurt.

"I see that." Anders said but he looked hurt. I, now, felt ashamed. I had made him a promise and I did not keep it. "Logan I-"

"I'm apologize." I said softly, cutting him off and looking into his brown eyes. He looked surprised. "I didn't mean to worry or hurt you."

"I understand why you did it. I just don't like it." Anders gave a heavy sigh. "Actually there is something I wanted to apologize for too."

"What for?" I asked, puzzled. I didn't think there was any reason for him to apologize to me.

"You've been… distant since you helped me with…" He trailed off and I immediately knew he was referring to Justice. "I got weighty and I should apologize."

"You can tell me anything you need to." I offered for the second time that day. A small mischievous smile appeared on his face. That smile appeared only sometimes and usually he had something witty or funny to say. I wondered what sort of man he had been before Justice – he occasionally told me stories of his time in the Gray Wardens and he spoke fondly of the red-haired elf that was his leader. They got into all sorts of trouble.

"Be careful what you offer. You might get more than you bargained for." He teased me lightly. He must have been a flirtatious man in the past because it always seemed he had a charming tone to his teasing. I smiled a little bit, shaking my head.

"Oh don't tease me." I said mock scornfully. It was strange, this moment felt so nostalgic – being at home with my family. I had only ever been playful with them – it was so strange that Anders, whom I barely knew, was able to get this reaction out of me. I owned it to the fact that even though we had only known each other a short time we had a similar past and a shared obstacle.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" Anders asked. The mischievous smile was still there but there was something unreadable in his eyes that made me feel… different. Wanted almost.

"Not at all." I said truthfully. I was comfortable in his presence. What did he mean uncomfortable anyway? With his flirting? He couldn't mean it anyway.

"That's good." He said, his eyes dancing. Than before I could figure out the meaning, the expression was gone, chased away by regret and… fear. He hid that just as quickly. I blinked. I must have imagined it, I told myself.

He smiled again.

"Now Varric told me to fetch you so you could talk some sense into your brother. It seems Carver has lost a great deal of money." Anders reported cheerfully.

"Oh for Andraste's sake." I sighed and quickly started walking for Lowtown. Truly my brother never stopped getting into trouble.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hmmm - what's this? A change of lines? Why yes it is.

And I always found it stupid that Fenris would totally forget Hawke was a mage when she flirted with him. Let's not forget that here shall we?

Of course, this is a Valentine's Day present so it wouldn't be totally without some implication of romance - and this isn't your only chapter!


	15. The View from a Former Slave

- Fenris –

I had been very surprised to see the black-haired mage come to my door in the morning. And irritated. Did she think she could come back to get the money now after she so arrogantly refused it? She knocked on the door once but I waited, hiding behind the side of the window, hoping she would simply go away. I couldn't believe I had offered my service to yet ANOTHER mage but I would rather not owe a debt to another one of their ilk.

I watched as she glanced at the door, looking uncertain. I remembered thinking she was quite admirable when we first met – taking down those Tevinters with nothing but an untrained boy – who looked like her – and a dwarf as well as having an eye bandaged off. She carried herself well - calm and collected with a straight back. At the time I remembered thinking that the way she carried herself and the plain way she dressed didn't match. Simple, battle worn armor and hair ungainly braided back. Perhaps one time she might have been pretty until she was scarred with the band of angry pink flesh across the bridge of her nose and a faded white one that passed through her lip. I had almost felt bad for her as it looked like she had been burned. And what else could have caused that but a mage?

Until she proved to be a mage herself.

What a fool I was not to notice it sooner. I shouldn't have asked for her help against Danarius and then I wouldn't have owed her. Damn her for not taking the money either. But I offered and now I had no choice but to see what she wanted. I set down the bottle of wine and walked down the stairs, keeping my sword close. I opened the door. Hawke turned to me, her arms crossed lightly. Her one blue eye looked over me and I restrained a shudder.

"I apologize if I woke you." Her voice was low, soft. The tone was simply conversational. I was wary but I had to talk to her.

"You didn't." I said briefly. It wasn't a total lie.

She shifted a little bit before replying.

"I… feel like we ended badly yesterday." She said. It took me by surprise that she sounded so sincere. "I did not mean to offend you."

I couldn't help but scoff. Didn't mean to offend me? Was she simply playing coy or stupid? If so this was a foolish ploy. I noticed the small growl from her side and the same dog from yesterday stared up at me with obvious disdain. I met his amber eyes only briefly before ignoring it. I did notice Hawke's hand wander closer and I wondered bitterly if she hit the beast.

"Perhaps you didn't." I simply said. She said nothing and her expression remained the same. She must have missed the implication. But no, I thought, looking at her cool eye. She caught it but she remained calm. My eyes flickered to the servants just coming out of the mansions. They immediately looked away from me and started whispering to each other.

"May I come in?" Hawke asked quietly, having noticed my discomfort with an accuracy I found disconcerting. She was asking me to come in? I did say I would note whether she was like Danarius. I knew I could handle a lone mage if she decided to attack. Her dog, however, was another story. I stepped back to let her inside and Hawke firmly wedged herself between me and her dog. The dog made an irritated noise but relented to her position. Protecting me from her dog and waiting for me to close the door… Either this was a very good trick or she was truly honest.

I led the way back up to the room I had been standing in only moments before. The sound her feet made was very little. A mage shouldn't be so quiet. All the mages I had known strode around with their feet thumping like unwieldy horses. Her dog sneezed several times and I noted it was dusty but didn't care. If Danarius decided to come back, I was not going to clean it. When we arrived, I waited out of habit for her to sit and when she didn't, I realized she was waiting for me to invite her to sit. I indicated and Hawke sat down smoothly, her dog placing himself easily between us. Strange.

I picked up the bottle and took a drink. Her silence was beginning to unnerve me. Was she not going to say anything at all? So I explained what the drink was and then, with a bitter taste in my mouth, relieved one of the memories of habit. Danarius forcing me to pour this vile drink for his guests and when I brought up my appearance, I noted the look of disgust on her face. I knew she was disgusted by me now. I thought she might say something about forcing me to return and I kept my hand close to my sword when she said something entirely different.

"He sounds like a terrible man." Hawke said, mentioning my master as the one who disgusted her. This mage was very different and I did not like the sincerity in her words. "Slavery was reason enough to dislike him but this-"

Hawke trailed off shaking her head slowly in a way that said she had lost her words. This had to be a trick. I couldn't trust a mage.

"He is indeed." I said, finding myself agreeing with her. Just the memories of that man who caused me so much pain… My hand tightened around the bottle and I threw it at the wall with my fury. I was satisfied to watch it shatter on the wall. I immediately noted out of the corner of my eye that Hawke had not even flinched. She only watched me with a cool gaze and very little about her expression said much. This woman was impossible to read. It made her all the more dangerous. She only moved when the dog leapt to his feet with a snarl. I expected her to hit the dog, force him to submit like every mage I knew. Instead Hawke only stroked the dogs head with a gentleness I had not expected in a thousand years – not from her kind.

"Tis quite alright my dear Owen." She murmured in a soft voice, kindness in her words. She had said my dear. Nothing I had ever seen was the same as this. The dog – Owen – glared at me balefully for a few moments before huffing and shifting closer to Hawke. She gently rubbed his ears when she looked back up at me, her expression reverting to neutral.

"You've had a difficult life." It startled me, the gentleness in that sentence. This was impossible. Just looking in her eye made me uncomfortable and I turned to gaze at the fire. What could she possibly sympathize with? She was a mage, drunk with power.

"I'd rather not speak more of it." I couldn't help but say with dryness. My life was none of her concern anyway. She simply watched me again. Her stillness bothered me for reasons I couldn't place.

"I'm willing to listen when you need to speak."

I couldn't help but turn to look at her. She offered to listen to my worries? A small smirk tugged at my lips before I quickly banished it. I was… confused. This went against everything I knew. I immediately turned the conversation towards her. Nothing more about me. Her Fereldan accent was curious and I heard some rumors – from the dwarf mostly – about her hailing from that country. I sat on a bench nearby but far enough away to move if I had to.

"Have you never wanted to return to Fereldan?" I asked, clasping my hands before as I watched her carefully. She considered for a moment, a shadow passing over her face. Her hands suddenly seemed to be very interesting to her. It was a while before she answered me.

"My life is here now."

This annoyed me. She had been raised in Fereldan and she simply says her life is here now? How can one give up that kind of roots so easily? Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I was angry because I was partially jealous that she had a home and yet gave it up like that.

"And that's it?" My tone was scathing and I didn't bother to check the accusation. "You leave it behind so easily?"

Something passed on her face. I was stunned to see it was pain. What did she have to be in pain over? It was nothing that her kind did to me.

"I did not do so easily." It was as collected as ever but sounded strange. I had struck a nerve then. I marked it mentally.

"And it no longer matters now?" I demanded, silently wondering if it was wise to keep pushing the subject.

"It matters a great deal." Her eye was cold and her tone was stony. Something about the way her hands were clenched and the way her frown pulled at those scars on her cheeks stirred something I didn't like – pity. I dismissed it and reminded myself it would be better to keep on her good side until this accursed debt was paid off.

"I apologize. Your life is your own." The words were forced like thorns but the stony expression faded a good deal. A little bit of gratitude in her face when she accepted it. Then she asked me if I was to stay in Kirkwall. She seemed only curious so I answered her. I don't know what made me mention Seheron. I blamed it on Hawke whose apparent openness was hard to discourage. She asked if it was where I was from and seemed slightly shocked that I was told it was where I was from. What I wouldn't give to remember. The 'told?' only rubbed salt in my wounds. I thought she would press the subject and I was again surprised when she didn't. She backed down with grace, I noted. An admirable quality.

"I could see myself staying… for the right reasons." I answered her earlier question. She glanced up at me. "I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters."

It was only simple courtesy. Then she smiled at me. It was simply a small turning up of her lips but it made her grave face seem suddenly friendlier. I'd only ever seen the smiles of condescending mages, of pity. This was happiness. How strange. She accepted my thanks with a tilt of her head.

I noted that I was becoming more comfortable in her presence and I couldn't stand it. Somehow this felt wrong. I needed Hawke to leave so I could sort out my thoughts.

"I shouldn't keep you any longer." I said, getting to my feet. Again she showed me respect by waiting until I stood before she did. Hawke was treating me… like a person would treat another person. Like any guest would treat their host. This was very unnerving. She called her dog over, who sniffed at me with disdain. Hawke apologized and then walked down the stairs. I turned away from them immediately. As I made my way back into the rooms, I saw a glimpse of Hawke in the courtyard below. I should have walked away but I stayed as her dog bounded into the sunlight.

I watched as Hawke turned towards the dog's bark. I stiffened when I saw her walk towards a hidden man in the shadows. Her shoulders were tense as she spoke. The man looked tense too before he said something. She spread her arms wide, looking more relaxed. He looked hurt by something and she, ashamed. They obviously knew each other and I contemplated looking away but I found myself watching their exchange regardless. Hawke was a formidable woman, obviously, what could make her look so meek?

The man said something and she smiled, her eyes dancing. The expression took me by surprise as she said something back, trying to look severe. I hadn't seen that expression before – almost of childlike delight – on someone as stoic as Hawke. Maybe not as stoic as I thought. The man's hood slid back slightly, allowing me to see an expression that put a chill in my gut for reasons unknown to me. That look on his face – and the way his hand rose slightly as if to touch her, apparently unnoticed by Hawke herself – was one I had rarely seen. Hawke looked confused as she replied and then at a sentence from him, she walked away towards Hightown. The way his gaze followed her as she left was not of simple acquaintances but an interested man.

In that moment, his eyes flickered to me and a dangerous look came over his face. I knew that look well enough to be read as stay away. I simply glowered back and turned away from the window, set at unease by the whole conversation. Why should I care what that man thought of Hawke – a mage? I dismissed it as only a feeling of competition towards the man who so obviously challenged me.


	16. A Pirate in Trouble

I reclined in a chair on one side of Varric's table, watching with interest as Carver and Anders played a game of cards. Varric was sitting next to me, studying the maps of the Deep Roads. He was watching the game out of the corner of his eye too and it looked like he was trying not laugh.

I knew exactly what he found so amusing. Carver was becoming increasingly frustrated with the game as no matter how good a hand he thought he had, Anders seemed to come up better. What Carver failed to realize is that Anders was cheating. Quite skillfully I might add but, then again, Carver wouldn't notice someone cheating unless it was right in front of his face. Indeed, he threw down his cards in fury.

"I give up!" He growled, leaning back. I shook my head with a small smile.

"I don't see how you can be so bad at this." Anders said nonchalantly, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. The corners of my lips twitched as I tried not to laugh.

"Why don't you give it a try Logan?" Varric suggested, grinning. I shook my head.

"I don't gamble." I replied.

"Well, it's not gambling – just a friendly card game." He persisted and made a shooing motion with his hand. I was fairly interested to see if I could catch Anders. I hesitated and then sighed, switching to the chair just in front of Anders. He gave me a smile, his eyes dancing with mirth and I knew he was going to try and cheat me as well.

He dealt out the cards and I took up my hand. I had played cards in my younger days but I was rusty. I was somewhat glad I had watched the game earlier and picked up on the rules otherwise this whole mess would be rather embarrassing. We switched back and forth and I noticed Anders was cleverly pushing a card up his sleeve every time he drew and sliding another back. A very impressive slight of hand.

Just as we were about to throw our hands down, I reached over and snatched his wrist. Anders grinned sheepishly when I pulled out a card from his sleeve. I mock-scowled at him and shook my head firmly. It was at that moment when two things happened simultaneously. Carver, who had been watching the game rather intently, stood up to shout at Anders and a courier burst through the door without knocking, much to Varric's irritation.

I walked over to the door where Varric was taking a letter from the couriers hands and shooing the man away. As soon as the door closed, he tossed the letter to me. I caught it between my fingers and flipped it over. My name was written in plain but legible letters – from Aveline then? We had exchanged letters a few times but they could always wait for me at home. If she was sending a courier for me, something must have happened.

"Next time, ask your couriers to knock before entering." Varric said in exasperation.

"My apologies." I said automatically, using my dagger to pop the plain wax seal. It didn't have the seal of the guard company on it which meant this was for my eyes only.

I leaned on the stone wall, absently tuning out my brothers' yelling as I read the note. It was short and concise – Aveline didn't much like doing paperwork and would rather get straight to the point. And it was to the point. Apparently Aveline was expecting a merchant ambush and the guard captain didn't believe her. It must be bad, for Aveline to call on me. She had never done so before.

I whistled for Owen and grabbed my staff.

"What's with the note Logan? Where are you off too?" Varric inquired and Carver and Anders looked up from their debate (which ended in another game of cards).

"It's nothing. My friend Aveline is having a little trouble." I said calmly as slipped my hood over my head and pulled my braided hair out of the way. It was getting long.

"Your friend the guard?" Varric asked. I rolled my eyes at him for knowing because as far as I knew, he had never met her.

"Yes. Now please continue what you were doing." I said simply and left, closing the door behind me. Instantly a wave of sound hit my eardrums and I restrained a wince. The Hanged Man was packed full. I slid my way through the crowd from days of practice and tried not to gag at the smell of vomit and piss. It was also hideously warm in here, which made the smell very much more potent.

It was then I noticed the crowd was moving – backing away from the bar. I found myself suddenly shifted to the front where a scantily and ostentatiously clad woman was drinking. She was surrounded by three men. The crowd was murmuring, knowing that this looked like a fight. And ogling the woman as well. It was none of my business but several faces looked like mercenaries disguised as the crowd. I moved quietly to a shadowy corner of the bar as Owen sat down, his ears pricked.

"You owe me Isabela." A man growled to the woman in a threatening manner. I couldn't hear what she replied over the whooping of the crowd but she seemed unbothered by his hostility, or just didn't care and simply kept drinking. This seemed to irritate him.

"We'll get our money's worth bitch." That sounded like a rape threat and I tensed up. The men at the bar seemed to think this would be a good show and cat-called, whisteling. The woman – Isabela turned to face him and I caught that same sweet look on her face as I'd seen on Varric's occasionally. The one that meant trouble.

"Oh you poor sweet baby." She crooned and then made for another drink when he slammed the cup down on the table. She caught his wrist and slammed his head into the table. I turned my gaze to the crowd, seeing as she had that well enough in hand and spotted two other men step forward. I gave a sharp piercing whistle and Owen flung himself into the crowd, lips pulled back and showing all of those gleaming white teeth. People yelled and leapt or tumbled out of the way.

The second man in the crowd reached for his sword to cut Owen down as my hound dragged his partner down. I shouldered my way through the crowd and slipped my foot under his. Stumbling from the unexpected movement, he lurched forward and pulled out his sword in the same movement. I slid the wooden end of my staff under his arm and pulled up rapidly. The knotted wood connected with his skull and he went down hard.

I latched my staff back onto the leather belt that held it on my back. Many of the people here got out of my way, now instantly recognizing who I was. And the appearance of Varric, Anders and Carver at the top of the stairs may have had something to do with it as well. Owen gave one last snap at the man he'd taken down before trotting back over to me. I made a small wave to Varric to let him know it was over. The dwarf grinned at me before folding Bianca back up. He grabbed Carvers' arm, who was looking conflicted over disappointed for losing a fight and staring at Isabela's… assets. Carver followed Varric back in. Anders looked at me a long moment before his eyes flickered to something behind me. I was shoved harshly and I caught my balance quickly.

The man whom Isabela has smashed against a table snarled.

"Get the hell out of my way bitch!" He shouted. He might have looked more imposing had his forehead not been bleeding all over the place. A glance out of the corner of my eye told me Anders had taken a step down, his hands reaching for the staff just above. I shook my head slightly as Owen bit the rude man's hand, drawing blood. He screamed and his pals swiped at Owen. The hound simply dodged out of the way. If he could laugh, Owen would be mocking them. But as it were Owen's hackles simply raised and he lowered his head, barking. The sight of a dog the size of a small pony showing his teeth hurried them along.

I patted Owen's head as he gave a short disdainful sniff. He nuzzled my palm affectionately and trotted over to Isabela with me.

"Haven't seen you around here before." She observed astutely, turning to look at me with an appraising eye, squinting at my face hidden under the hood. "Must be new."

"I suppose so." I said simply. I wasn't very new; having been here a year but perhaps she was a traveller.

"I'm impressed. Most men would be grabbing at your tits and ass but it looks like you've got things well in hand." She said. I hardly raised an eyebrow at her rather vulgar language.

"They wouldn't dare." I replied, leaning against the counter.

"Really? Because that fellow on the top of the stairs over there sure looked like he wanted to get some." Isabela said, jerking her head to where Anders was standing earlier. I passed it off as teasing and ignored it.

"Relax stiffass. It was a joke." She said with a chuckle.

"I realized that."

"Boy you certainly are serious. What's your name anyway? You sound Feralden."

"Not many people catch up on that." I said, mildly surprised she had guessed.

"I was in Denerim not too long ago." She said with a shrug but didn't elaborate. "I'm Isabela. Captain Isabela. But sadly, without my ship, the title rings hollow."

There was obviously a story behind that as well that she didn't elaborate on either. I wasn't going to pry with a complete stranger.

"Logan Hawke." I said calmly and a small whine from below made me look down. Owen tilted his head at me and wagged his tail. I smiled slightly. "And Owen."

"If your accent didn't give you away, the dog sure as hell would." She said with a sniff, looking slightly taken aback. Not a dog lover I took it. "Feraldens and their dogs."

"He's been a good companion." I said, ruffling Owen's ears absently. Now that I was sure the woman was unharmed I was wasting time. Aveline was expecting me. "Good to meet you Isabela but I must go."

"You're not going to let me buy my savior a drink first?" She said with a full lip pout. I was caught off guard, confused. Was she flirting with me? I shook my head slightly, taking a step backwards.

"Thank you but I don't drink." I recovered quickly enough. Dressed like that, it was obvious she was a player of sorts. I just… wasn't used to being flirted with by another woman.

She laughed heartily.

"You should have seen your face. Hawke, love, you got a lot to learn." Isabela said with a chuckle. Still rather bewildered by this whole situation, I simply sighed and rubbed my temples. "I'm sorry, it was just too good an opportunity. But really, I have something you can help with, if you're interested."

"Depends on whether this situation is a joke or not." I said dryly. She shook her head with a grin.

"No, no it's nothing like that. You see, my past has caught up with me. A rat-faced snake named Hayder. I've arranged a duel with him but-" She said, crossing her arms.

"You don't trust him." I finished. People in this city were like that.

"Exactly. And it looks like you can handle yourself – as well as your dwarf friend and Mr. Watching-Your-Ass." She said snidely and I let the tease pass.

"When is this duel?"

Isabela smiled at me, a sort of half smirk.

"Tonight. See you there Logan." She said, breezing past me.

I stood there for a moment, wondering what I had just gotten myself into when a movement at my side had me turning. I looked up at Anders, his face pulled down in a thoughtful frown.

"What in the world is Isabela doing here?" He asked.

"You know her?" I asked back, blinking in surprise. This seemed to bring something back and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Er, you could say that. Back when I was a Warden." He mentioned, seeming to avoid the truth. I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "Anyway, you looked pretty taken aback. Did she try to flirt with you?"

I said nothing but looked the other way for a moment.

"It was awkward." I admitted after a moment. Anders suddenly broke out in a laugh and I looked at him with a little reproach.

"Don't look at me like that. It's funny. Next time, you should bring me along too." He said. I glared at him – again he'd gotten a rise out of me, I realized in the back of my mind. That was before I realized that she had seen Anders and said nothing. Unless she was teasing him. In which case, I wasn't repeating anything she'd said.

"I have to go help a friend. Go away." I said sternly and refitted my staff before walking away. I heard him chuckle once more before he walked away towards the stairs. Somewhere, I was thankful that he seemed to be recovering from his spill with Justice. It was true that knowing he housed a spirit of Vengance inside of him made me uncomfortable but… I wasn't much better off was I?


	17. A Hero at Heart

I set an easy pace up to the Vicount's Keep. I had never visited the Keep before even though it was where my oldest friend worked. Instead, Aveline had often opted to visit us – either at Gamlen's home or in the square. I was somewhat nervous as I walked up the stairs, even taking at glance at myself to make sure my appearance was at least somewhat presentable.

My clothes, though threadbare, were clean – a light gray tunic (to say white would be wrong, perhaps it had been before too many washes in hard water had ruined it) dark gray trousers (perhaps black once) and scuffed brown leather boots that had seen their share of battles. My armor was simple – leather gorget, fur lined leather cuirass with hidden metal inserts that would prevent a deadly stab in the back, some worn metal and leather gauntlets with the fingers partially cut away to allow spellwork without burning the material (this was not always the case as the ends were sometimes singed. I made sure to cut away those bits.) A red cloth was wound around my lower waist and hips – this oft worked better than a belt to hide my purse. I pulled the leather band from my hair and ran my fingers through it quickly before braiding it tidily. My weapon was well polished and clean and it looked more like a spear than a staff. I would pass for a well-traveled mercenary – and by my reputation from the Red Iron, I hoped I was not on the wrong end of the law.

I glanced at Owen. The mabari had seen me straightening up and had shaken himself thoroughly. He had even wiped his paws on the stone. I smiled a little bit as he looked up at me, his floppy ear making him look awfully silly.

"We are quite the disreputable pair aren't we?" I told him, unable to resist a chuckle. His long mutt tail wagged back and forth as we turned to go inside. The guards immediately stopped us.

"Halt! What is your business?" They demanded. Several noblemen turned to look our way. I could not explain what my business was, as it was obviously a secret to be kept from the guard captain so I replied as simply as I could.

"My friend is in the guard. I only came to visit." I said evenly and honestly. They looked as if they didn't believe me. Not like I could blame them. It was a long silence as they sized me up. I didn't budge, only met their eyes one at a time.

"Very well. But you leave your weapon with us." One said finally. The other seemed to agree with this. I didn't hesitate even if something inside me did. While it looked a spear, it was a staff. Would they figure it out?

"Odd weapon for a woman. Couldn't choose a sword instead?" The guard remarked as he took in from me.

"It's best to keep an enemy at length with an eye like this." I said, tapping the bandaged part of my face. He nodded sagely and his compatriot waved me on without suspicion.

It seemed however much the guards may have approved of me, the nobles did not. As my eyes wandered the Keep (forever too grand and gaudy for my taste) the nobles whispered hotly to each other casting sometimes not so subtle glares in my direction. Their staring irritated me a little – hadn't their parents ever taught them it was rude to stare? But no, they continued on their obvious gossip and distaste for my 'poor attire' and 'barbarian looks'. I strode past them all, my shoulders squared back. I may have been born a commoner but my mother was a noblewoman once and she had loved to fix us with good posture, even if it was the only thing she managed to enforce. After a particularly nasty comment, I turned around to meet the woman's gaze, pausing in my ascent up the (rather massive and possibly grossly expensive) stairs.

"Such vicious remarks only reflect on one's own poise and behavior." I remarked to her icily. The woman recoiled as if she had been struck, red embarrassment flushing across her cheeks as she stuttered out a reply. I ignored whatever reply she made and continued to the guard barracks. Housed within the Keep itself, it was a hallway away from the main mezzanine. A small cloister of rooms opened up from a small main hall. On one wall various sizes of parchment sheets plastered the wall. A spare glance revealed they were wanted posters and schedules.

Several doors were open and I saw a couple of cots in a couple and the mess hall in another. I didn't enter any of them, feeling like it was rude but rather looked for the familiar redhead. Several of the guards had turned to look at me. Just in the normal what-is-a-stranger-doing-here way, thankfully. A younger woman walked over to me.

"Pardon me serrah, is Aveline here?" I asked her politely.

"She is. Should I get her for you?" The guard replied.

"Please."

She walked off, heading into the back of the hall. I looked around absently. It was a nice place and the guards at least seemed courteous. I was well aware Aveline had been having trouble fitting in given she was Ferelden. I wondered if her message had something to do with it. A small yip from Owen startled me slightly, warning I had visitors. I turned to see the two other guards the girl was with had walked over. I nodded my head in greeting. Their swagger spoke of trouble.

"We heard you were looking for Aveline. You her Fereldan friend?" One man asked. The other didn't look particularly happy with his friends' tone. Neither was I quite frankly.

"What of it?" I kept my tone at politely disinterested.

"Nothing really. I had just heard about their mabari. I just hadn't expected the stink." He mocked, snickering to myself. Again his friend said nothing but shifted uncomfortably. I fixed him with a glare that off put him.

"Not as if that hound is very fearsome any-." He was going to continue had Aveline not walked up and told Owen to attack him. The mabari launched himself at the guard, sinking his teeth in the gap between bracer and elbow and pulling him down. The guard had not been expecting the attack and was sent sprawling on his back. Owen stood over him, lips pulled back over gleaming white teeth. The guard went rather pale as I raised an eyebrow at Aveline. The other guard, who had been uncomfortable with his friends teasing, was also looking at her. She looked slightly regretful that she had sent a mabari to attack him but not by much.

"You can call him back now. I think he's learned his lesson." Aveline told me and I whistled sharply. Owen immediately reverted back to wary mode and moved to sit by my ankles. Aveline ruffled his ears affectionately and his tongue lolled out happily. I slipped him a treat as the guards friend helped him up.

"I apologize Guardswoman Aveline, Serah Hawke. Come on Gerin, you have patrol." Gerin, the white-faced guard, let himself be pushed by his friend. Aveline watched them walk away, her eyes contemplative.

"That will not help your relationship with the guard." I pointed out astutely. "He was doing no real harm."

"It'll be good to put the fear of dog back in him anyway. Gerin is far too arrogant to be cautious. Maybe this will teach him." Aveline explained. "You should have done it yourself."

"I would rather not blacken my reputation more than it is." I said with a small bit of humor.

"Good point." She examined me for a moment. "You look well Logan but where is your weapon? It's not like you to leave it behind."

"As I said, my reputation proceeds me. I had to leave it at the entrance."

"Those idiots, I told them you were coming today." She grumbled. "Good to see you didn't bring your brother with you."

I definitely smiled at this. Carver had been pestering Aveline to let him join the guard. Aveline and I both knew he wasn't ready and she declined him on all occasions. He hadn't been the most polite to Aveline since. It's a wonder he had any friends left at all with that attitude.

"No offense Logan but your brother is a tit." She said straight out before turning to examine the parchment wall.

"None taken." I said with a low chuckle. I felt a little bad for laughing but unfortunately, that sentence summed him up well. "I hear you have a problem? Bandits?"

"It could be nothing. I never found any shipments that match up to it but what does it matter?" Aveline said, rubbing her eyebrows.

"Either way they're up to no good." I agreed simply, crossing my arms over my chest. I understood Aveline's longing for action. Lately our talks always touched upon the fact that she'd been sent on dead patrols… and a lot of them. Someone obviously didn't want her doing anything.

"I could use your help, if you're up to it." She said, looking at me.

"Always for a friend." I replied, somewhat warmly. She smiled back at me and clapped me over the shoulder. I nearly stumbled – she hardly knew her own strength sometimes.

"I knew you would. When will you be ready?" Aveline asked.

"Should I get more help for this mission?" I replied as the two of us, three counting Owen, walked back towards the keep entrance. The nobles kept well out of our way this time. There were whispers, I hardly believed that one reprimand would silence them but at least they weren't completely over the top and out of hand. Aveline didn't seem to notice – a year of practice I assumed.

"As long as it's not Carver. Or mercenaries. Have you anyone like that?" She said after a pause. "And Maker, do not bring along that dwarf you have been pulling with you these days."

I raised an eyebrow, not surprised she knew about the company I had been keeping. A small niggling worry kept residence in the back of my mind for Anders. How much did she know about him?

_Or Fenris, the slave run away from a Tevinter. A mage who could cause many problems for the city. _Something whispered to me. I frowned; the pity I felt for him only left a bitter taste in my mouth. That left just us.

"I suppose not. We can handle this ourselves." I answered.

"You two!" Aveline barked loudly. Some people nearby jumped as the two guards snapped to attention. Whatever she had been doing in this last year, it was not for naught. She had at the respect of some of her fellow guards. "I had explicitly told you my friend would be visiting me in the keep and she was not to be hindered."

"Ah –but-"

"She looke-"

"I don't care about any of that! You will return her weapon and next time, remember it!" Aveline said, her voice commanding. I could easily see her at the head of an army against the darkspawn.

"Forgive us Serah." The guardsman whispered, handing me my staff. I took it and bowed my head mutely. I followed as Aveline pushed open the doors, strapping on my weapon as I went. Resettling the straps more comfortably on my shoulders, I watched as Aveline pulled out a map of Sundermount, the trade routes clearly marked.

"The ambush site will be around here." She said pointing to a small off trail near the summit of Sundermount as I leaned over her shoulder. "You've been all over this mountain with Owen Logan. What is our best option?"

I studied it for a moment, getting my bearings directionally.

"The main shortcut used to be here, up the ravine." I said, tapping the small ravine with a finger. "But there was a rockfall last week and it has yet to be cleared. However, there is a deer trail leading up to the top of the ravine – it's a bit hard to access but it will take us to where we need to go in half the time. Owen can find it right?"

Owen had his head tilted towards us the whole time and barked the affirmative. I handed the map back to Aveline and she tucked it away. We started for the outskirts of the city. I say started because it wasn't long until we ran into someone.

As Aveline, Owen and I reached the gates of the city leading out to Sundermount, Owen suddenly started growling. Expecting an attack of some sort, I unlatched my weapon. Upon hearing approaching footsteps I did the first thing that instinct told me – attack. I whirled around in a long sweeping blow and the abrupt clang of metal filled the courtyard. Alarmed, Aveline had pulled out her sword and shield. She made to attack when I realized who I had mistaken for an enemy.

He had a hood on but the tattoos were unmistakable. Fenris' green started out at me coldly from the darkness of his hood, the greatsword not moving an inch. I pulled back, slightly bewildered at his appearance at the city gates. What was he doing here and why did he approach me of all people? That's when I realized the sound of metal slicing through the air.

"Wait Aveline!" I said, holding my hands up as I stepped between them. She immediately halted, looking confused.

"Who is this? Why are you defending him?" She demanded. I heard Fenris shift but did not turn to look at him.

"His name is Fenris. He's a friend." I said calmly, although the word friend felt a bit stiff and I heard a disgusted noise from behind me.

"Then why is Owen growling?" Aveline said suspiciously, easing from her stance somewhat. I gave Owen a hard stare and he just huffed and didn't even have the decency to look the least bit ashamed. And after he had spurred me into attacking Fenris of all people! The man who was indebted to me but didn't trust me in the least and would certainly be the first to try and kill me!

"Lay down and enough of that." I told Owen sternly. The overprotective hound obeyed out of habit but didn't look happy about it and made a great show of dragging the command out. I put a gentle hand on Aveline's wrist as she looked over Fenris. Taking my hint, she sheathed her sword but still looked wary of the newcomer. I didn't blame her – Fenris' appearance was rather frightening and he hadn't bothered to put away his greatsword.

"I apologize Fenris. I didn't mean to attack you like that." I said quietly, sincerely.

He just nodded although every muscle in his face told me he didn't believe me. I wondered what in the world could have brought him here but I didn't quite know how to phrase it without offending him further. While I was at a loss for words, Aveline beat me to the question.

"Then what are you doing here?" She asked sternly – straight to the point like always. Fenris stilled. His shoulders tight, I feared he might attack Aveline. But he only stood and glared at us both.

"Varric told me you required my aid." His words were stiff and scornful. He didn't sound like he wanted to help us at all and I doubt he did. I was mildly surprised as to how Varric found out about my escapade so quickly. Then again, he did seem to have run of the undercity. However he did I was not particularly happy with this turn of events. Especially with the tension between Aveline and Fenris. And there was not a single way I could think of to turn Fenris down without offending him.

"Thank you Fenris." I said. I might as well take him along but Varric was going to have some explaining to do. Not just to me but to Anders too. "Shall we?"

Aveline nodded mutely as we took the lead, Fenris trailing behind. Owen placed himself between the pair of us and the elf. I didn't fail to miss Owen's dirty looks but he minded his manners. (Thank the Maker.) The trail started off near the coast of Kirkwall and then began to wind its way up the mountain, the underbrush getting thicker and thicker. The trip was spent mostly in silence – occasionally I would pick up an herb or share a word with Aveline. Fenris had said nothing and kept his distance. The phrase 'If looks could kill…' suddenly seemed very appropriate.

We found the deer trail fairly easily. Owen was forever impressing me with his intelligence. It was a tiny path that ran a bit of a dangerous part of the ravine and well hidden. The path narrowed to a tiny ledge at one point and we were forced to press our bellies flat to the rock to sidle by. Owen was forced to find another way around but only left my side at my extreme insistence as the three of us without four legs found hand holds and footholds. The drop was a fairly long one, with only scree and boulders to cushion a fall.

The last time I had been here it had been solid and steady. It was again this time… for the most part. Aveline crossed first and dropped off to the other side easily despite her heavy armor. I followed behind closely and Fenris came after me. While he may not have liked crossing so close to one another, it was far easier to catch each other as long as we stayed within arms distance. I was nearing the edge when the rocks made an uncomfortable groaning noise. I paused for a breath, glancing over at Aveline. She was examining the wall intently when a loud noise turned my head back towards Fenris. The ledge under his foot had collapsed and while he had managed to swing himself onto one foot, it wasn't going to hold long. The cliffside gave way.

Without thinking about it, I pushed myself off one foot. I grabbed Fenris' arm and pitched forward with his weight. A strong arm wrapped itself around my waist as Aveline steadied me. The instant my fingers brushed his lyrium tattoos we both winced. My scar throbbed suddenly and if I hadn't been the only thing holding him up at the moment, Fenris would have thrown me off. As quickly as it had come, the sensation vanished. I kept a steady grip on his arm as we slowly pulled ourselves up to the other side of the trail. As soon as he felt he was safe, Fenris yanked his arm out of my grip and looked decisively deadly. My attention turned to Owen as the mabari came bounding down from the forest. Out of the corner of my eye, Fenris flexed his arm with his brow furrowed in confusion.

Aveline called us ahead and we moved on. The ambush wasn't too far away now.

* * *

A/N:

AND THE STORY CONTINUES! Fenris, stop being such a prat.

Again, thank you all to whomever reads this story and a double thanks and ice cream to whoever leaves a review!

Have a fantastic day!


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